


Innocent

by Ivecygnus



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Blood and Torture, Established Relationship, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Past Violence, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Romance, Russian Mafia, Sexual Content, Soulmates, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 71,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivecygnus/pseuds/Ivecygnus
Summary: "No plead could prevent the monster from pulling the trigger and seeing the majestic darkness grow within his sanity. No qualms when it came to piercing someone's skull with a saint bullet of crimson revenge."Victor Nikiforov is the king of an empire of repugnance, violence and gore. An interesting event around the sleazy club "House of Envy" links the mobster with an initially innocent phychology student Yuuri Katsuki. The younger hides a cruel, blood-curdling past that is related to Victor's biggest rival, and they find themselves caught in a crossfire, searching for forgiveness and redemption as the war of innocence and death begins.Yuuri is determined to mend Victor's broken heart and give him love as they try to protect each other from the clutches of the enemy. Is their love going to survive in Victor's hideous world?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 19
Kudos: 205





	1. Shadow Of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for extreme violence, past trauma and sexual content! Read at your own risk!

A grim feeling of malice was coming from his bleak expression. Prowess and notorious, he was the king in his own realm of money and cold-blooded creatures. The grip around his weapon has always been steady, without a shiver of hesitantion. No plead could prevent the monster from pulling the trigger and seeing the majestic darkness grow within his sanity. No qualms when it came to piercing someone's skull with a saint bullet of crimson revenge. The true meaning of repugnance. The unsophisticated taste of the rotten race we belong to, the smell of charred, burning castles that was enough for him just to lit a cigarette. 

Victor Nikiforov was rather indifferent about his work, it was more of a routine than a striving passion. The was a vast constant between him and the others of his rank. His father figure has always reminded him, that the human sparkle of glee and hope behind his robe of intimidating detachment and aloofness will cost him his life one day. Nonetheless, Victor was a pure example of a splendid leader of the syndicate who was valued due to his composure and methods of work. 

It wasn't like him to show violence. 

An aspect of his job that could be done only by someone equal to the evil. Either you prepare mentally for the anguished pleads before you torture the creatures that bear a slight semblance to humans, or become traumatized to the rest of your life. Victor never got used to the metallic, disturbing taste of blood, it has always left the russian nauseous and ill for weeks straight. Even forced to be the heir of an empire where you die or survive, he never turned into a sadist. 

There are plenty of rules that were created for those in the mafia, such as the 'Don't go to bars' cliché. Notwithstanding, such minor rules couldn't effect him. As a matter of fact, the name 'Nikiforov' was on the contracts of many facilities in the city, including galleries, which were his hidden guilty pleasure, therefore he was a human too, and had the full right to enjoy to abstraction of colors and shapes, beauty and perception for the ordinary world he cherished. 

One place, however, could trigger his exasperation and headache more than anything else. A stagnant and sleazy place for his 'father' figure's cheap business deals. Despite his countless attempts to turn it into an exquisite bliss of higher class clients, everything miserably failed. The name of the nightclub was 'House of Envy'. It was given to Yuri Plisetsky, Victor's younger relative in the gang family. Yuri was an agressive and vigorous teenager, who wasn't to underestimate or confront. He appeared to be pretty innocent behind the outward mask of grace and private nature, his pale face, peering behind his almost platinum blond hair was elegant and feminine. However, Victor was the one honored to witness him slit someone's throat in the most vicious manner with a foggy piece of broken glass, from ear to ear. Pretty disturbing view, but if a teenager at such tender age could bear it, then he would be the ideal addition as an obedient member, who was submissive enough to follow the rules strictly and ruthless enough to never ask questions. 

Icy eyes with a pure sapphire glow were dangerously piercing the night gloom as he waited inside his car, impatiently tapping on the steering wheel, using his other hand to rub his temple. He took a long steady breath, the light scent of leather and fresh night air filling his lungs. He wouldn't even bother to stay here to spy for something that other people were allegedly ordered to, nonetheless, it was more of a personal matter. 

There were people who had the goods to interfere with the mafia and risk their own life in the name of material goods, reputations and fame. One person in particular has been invading Victor's territory by sending people to get information and leak it to the press afterwards. That was quite perplexing for Victor, wondering who would be so pathetic and naive to have faith in such irrational attempts. He personally took over the case. The name of their rival still hasn't been revealed and for Victor's dismay, he never leaves even a shred of evidence. 

He didn't bother to cover the large Mercedes from the dim street lights parked behind the club. It was a narrow street with plenty of abandoned buildings decorating its lack of presence or any soft of atmosphere. Victor was pessimistic around the conspicuous darkness of that hole. 

His nose scrunched in suspiciousness with all the violent yelps from the inside, Yurio could never organize better discipline.

He got a little bit preoccupied with the scenery of the full moon hovering from the midnight void, but quick enough to react when he spot a well dressed figure of a man who was wandering around the pub, clumsily waiting under the old streetpost of lustrous light. 

A loathsome grimace darkened Victor's expression. His gaze wandered over the lurking figure, that was cautiously trying to stay unnoticed. Victor, however, put a smirk of unanticipated evilness, enormity maintained his eyes cold and serious, focused on every movement the mysterious little spy had. The chase between him and the unknown rival has just begunー yet it might grow to fire and brimstone explosion. 

Boredom took over his stiffen body as he stretched, agile to pull out his revolver from the holster and make sure it's loaded. He remained silent, walking warily down the man who just now heard the click of Victor's shoes approaching. 

If horrifying scene is described to involve a lot of pain, then seeing Victor in front of you with a loaded gun casually resting in his right hand was your fatal verdict. You may knock on the gates of hell and beg to shelter yourself, just to escape from him. Wheedle and regret the day you were born in. The man's skin color rapidly drained and turned into a pale wraith. He better knew that this man spares none, furthermore, he devours your pain like a sweet drug and never gets enough of your endless struggle. 

"Please, Victor Nikiforov! Spare my life! I can explain, sir!" His implores resembled a hopeless litany for mercy. Victor cocked his silver eyebrow, trying to figure out what would the most simple and affective way be to make that miserable person speak up. For a brief moment, all Victor could hear was the ambient night noises and distant passing vehicles, chilly air stroking his back with the sudden gust of wind. 

"Such a polite way to refer to me, I like feeling superior." Victor spoke with a smoldering flame behind the cold numbness of his wide eyes. "You may be released from the eternal agony if you simply answer all my questions correctly." 

The other man frantically nodded, almost breaking his neck. He was a traitor, and whoever his boss is, he is nothing better than his deceitful servants. That man blindly risked his servants life for his own victory. No dignity, no reverence nothing left besides the gluttony, the poisonous diagnose of envy.

It isn't for who fired the bullet, but the one who bites on it.

"I might need the name of the person you work for," As straight forward as always, Victor's gaze was empty. It was like a threat, like a thunder of destruction and power that made the other hyperventilate and collapse in panic. Victor's grey locks gently covered the stabbing effect of the continuous eye contact he made, and currently, those glassy blue oceans poured all the tension into the dread of his glare. "I'm not satisfied with that demeanor." He clicked his tongue with disapproval, reducing the distance between them. His face was still stoic, merciless, such an accurate and alluring representation of a winter in Russia, such an example of a beast in a shell of a human with extreme charisma. 

The man struggled the move his shaking legs backwards, until he wasn't slumping against the cold wall of the building. Victor was proud of the terror he was capable of causing, his amicable smirk turned into a half infuriating smile that was a living nightmare. The man managed to give him a bizzare noise of whimpering as a sign of apprehension and rising uneasiness. 

"All I have is in my pockets, sir." The man stammered, thick drops of sweat rolling down his forehead. For his surprise, Victor got closer, inspecting the pockets of his jacket, and all he found was a flash drive card that maybe every servant owned. It wasn't something triumphant, nevertheless, it was a little clue of the coward. 

The man, unfortunately, yelped loudly at the sudden proximity, his whole body jolting in fear. Victor gasped and reacted impossibly fast to grab the man by the collar and shove the muzzle inside his mouth before pulling the trigger. 

The scent of gunpowder was overwhelming, the body froze in a repulsive figure with widely opened mouth, the immediate scent of rotten fresh blood spreading in the air. Rivulets of blood steamed down the opened wound. Since they were having that conversation behind the club, right next to the exit door, another two men, perhaps bodyguards appeared, but Victor already had the taste of blood over his tongue, so he quickly finished them with precise shots in between their locked eyes. Their bodies hit the ground immediately, a female voice yelling from the inside. 

Victor hummed in approval, his heart kicking furiously in his chest as he ran back to the car. It filled with the wooden scent of his perfume, combined with a hint of musk and the freshness of the night air. The fragrance was strong enough to cover his trembling, blood covered palms. His breathing was hectic, heart wildly beating inside his ribcage. The adrenaline was now a habbit. It was a combination of intense terror, a constant fatigue and sickness. He was capable of killing with one punch, and yet, his heart felt queasy everytime someone took their last breath in his hands. Guilt twisted his heart like a vice, a trace of remorse colored his face white. He has been trained to supress it, and he always did, but fota brief moment, he desired to be just Victor. Something more than a hunter. Something more than a dark shadow of a childhood phobia. Something more than a killer. 

ー

The obnoxious scent of decomposing flesh was almost completely gone. Victor parked his car at some sort of abandoned park place, leaning to the leather seat. He pulled his phone and called Chris, the man who has been working with him. He waited a good minute before the familiar husky voice of his friend filled his ears. 

"Good evening, Chris. I hope I haven't interrupted your rest." Victor half-heartedly chuckled, before looking at the tiny, pitch black streets. Mysterious sceneries have always intrigued him, as if he wasn't that lonely in the companionless, lonesome conversations with the moon. He clenched his suit in his fists, spotting a dense drop of blood still over his right hand. 

"Nothing like that. I've been working on some useless passports Yakov gave us to check. It has been a total waste of time so far." Victor relaxed his face muscles a bit, loosening his tie. 

"I guess I have a good new. Respectively a bad one too." Victor stated. 

"Eh, like there is a bad new for you!" The other derogatory added, which made Victor's face tense again with annoyance. 

"I found a spy of our person," He informed with a stern tone, almost hearing the puzzlement of the other one. "Frankly said, I didn't mind killing him, he was rather impertinent. All he leaked is a flash drive card with information that i'm certain is related to our person." He patiently explained, sensing the heavy glare of the other. Chris was negative, he always came up with the worst scenario. Despite being worlds apart with Victor, they had that one trait in common. In contrast, Chris's negativism could work as a realism at times. He didn't mind whether the glass will be half empty or half full, as long as there is any water left. Minimalist. Victor, on the other hand, was the type of person who was still immature enough to despise losing, to never give hope for anything and focus on his primal survival inside the mafia syndicate. 

"How should I help with it? It isn't exactly something I have done before," Chris retorted. "I'm not being hostile, Nikiforov. I honestly can't help with that." Victor muced at the glass of his car, gentle tapping of the approaching rain sounding through the half opened window. 

"What made you think i'm trusting you with such an evidence?" Victor finally spoke presumptuously. "I was about to ask you to pick the dead bodies before the police went there to investigate. I already heard a woman screaming as she saw them." 

"That is my job," Chris snorted. He had no word against the boss. "Contact Phichit for the hacking tools. He is young, but broke through Yakov's system in just half an hour. Pretty impressive. Inwill mail you his address. As much as I know, he lives with a roomate named Yuuri." Victor sighed at the detailed and unwanted explanation, pulling some towels and wet wipes to clean his gun carefully. It was again a habbit, its weight, the scent it gave off, the remorse. 

"Spare me the details, Chris. You invest too much time explaining yourself," Victor chews on his words and closed his eyes with drowsiness. His lips formed a thin line, eyes closed shut. Phichit was a stranger for the mafia. Victor presumed that this guy is just a little part of the cheap thrill of crime. Either that, or he was truly desperate for money. He personally heard some stories about him and his fascinating skills in technology. Maybe Victor could give him a little test. "I will go see it myself. Take care of the bodies."

"Yes, boss." He briefly answered and then hang up. 

Phichit? Yuuー Who? 

"Well, I suppose its time for me to go home." Victor stated, but what was home for such a shadow of justice? As thin as a bullet, lonely dancing with death every day. Maybe the closed space of an attic hotel room that belonged to him, the fancy wine that left rust of despair over his tongue. The taste of loneliness was bitter, impossible to avoid. May he find some sort of comfort, under the warm shower, or the guards protecting the building around the clock. He slowly began to drive, a low sound of the engine sounded before he made sure no one is following him. After that, he drove down the starry horizon of the tranquil night in Saint Petersburg. 

ー

Yuuri Katsuki. 

His head was blocked with different ideas, a little bit too vague for him to let them flow over the paper. It was absolutely like him to get his mind preoccupied with unrealistic and evocative and vivid ideas and theories, especially since he was a phychology student. 

Yuuri was specializing in forensic phychology. Besides studying, he works as an assistant at his university to help out with sorting documents or explaining the basics to some new students. Professors always found him to be confidant and diligent, with undeniable ability to delegate. It was still a mystery, however, how could someone with a hearty smile and sympathetic soul understand the depths of criminal's intentions. That was the complexity of forensic phychology, but Yuuri never failed to impress everyone with his witty and abstract conclusions. 

Besides university, Yuuri's biggest passion was ice skating. Ever since he was a tender aged kid, he would admire the little flames within the skater's eyes. The way they would move their bodies with so much flexibility and match the music as if they created it. Yuuri was always allured by the charm this sport radiated, so he began practicing on his own. 

Yuuri would usually fell into daydreaming while studying, a surge of reverie of the ice skating place in his birth city. He had so many idealistic expectations, that one day he will may choreograph his own programs. It was such a enthralling dream that usually made his heart skip a beat. 

Fortunately, he had a natural swamp behind the building he currently lived in. He always took an advantage of the freezing amd rough winters in Saint Petersburg, which completely froze the waters of the shallow swamp and covered it with a crusty, dazzling snowy frost, even though his flatmate, Phichit, warned him numerous times that skating over it isn't safe enough and the ice could possibly crack. 

He never listenedー gentle movements accompanying every thump of his heart, the water within boiling at the seductive and light skating. Poetry of the stars, as the night bleed into a dawn, he could transform into a king of the sun. And he was enamored with the freedom it gave him, breaking the chains of monotonous repetitiveness. 

Today, he didn't consider it twice, grabbing his skates and leaving his room in a complete mess, hot tea warming the little room with its steam. 

ー

Victor was definitely lax, languidly searched for the address given to him by Chris, which turned out to be a building of small rented flats at the end of the city. Victor was hesitant for the place, Phichit was either a ingenious with a great sense of anonymousity or a fool who was as poor as a church mouse.

The place was worlds apart from his own spacious home. Grey walls covered with mold, nothing to add any interest. He furrowed his eyebrows in strong disapproval, clicking his tongue in utter surprise. That place was under any critique, that the thought of it being lived in, nauseated the monster. 

The umber door cracked with a loud noise, before a figure of a young boy appeared. Victor got startled by the idea that a merely legal adult, living in the most outrageous and neglected building of student apartments around, could actually assist him to catch a long searched rival by the Bratva. 

"You must be Phichit, aren't you? " He inclined. The other's eyes visibly widened and without further explanation he nodded in agreement. 

"That's right, sir." He wasn't a fool and quickly recalled the message of Chris from last night. Victor invited himself inside, walking through the cavernous hall. 

Victor's presence was blood-curdling. With his apathetic, watery eyes, to the brazen expression of relaxed muscles of his face. Logically, Phichit would describe the unknown man as cold, with a touch of arrogance and withdrawal, yet he was too disturbed and frightened not to confess his opinion by thinking too loudly, amidst the sudden silence. 

"Chris informed me that you could take all the information from a flash drive card, without activating any of the viruses installed?" Victor questioned pulling the small device from his coat, holding it firmly in his leather gloves. He felt zero threat by the younger. He was on a throne of strength and was in position to kill anyone who had the goods to disobey him. 

"That is right. I will need to take a look." The younger informed, guiding Victor to his room. Victor couldn't help but look around. The place consisted of two rooms with bathrooms, almost identical, but the other one was locked, the key carelessly left on the lock.

"Sir, i'm afraid that this device is full of viruses. Not only one, but what is interesting is that it requires password for each of the files." He stated, rubbing his chin. "Every system has a vulnerability." 

"How will you access them?" Victor questioned, shifting his weight from his left to his right leg, crossing his arms demonstratively. The boy wondered about a moment and then smiled reassuringly. 

"I specialize with programming, it will take a while but I will take down all of the information here. The first step is to gain some knowledge over the type of viruses and then figure out the password." He explained in the most convenient way, since he better than anyone knew, that people rarely knew anything about informatics or programing languages. 

"Will you be able to do that?" Victor doubted. It was an absurd for him still, but he had no other choice. He had to trust the younger and allow him to gain all the information. It could cost his life, so he wouldn't do anything inconsiderate. He was still too naive to do something different than ordered. 

"I willー" He was interrupted by a loud thud from the outside, which made Victor flinch by instinct, a frantic pulsation on the sides of his neck, eyes of flaming rapaciousness. The sight was not anticipated, his gaze fell on the little frozen swamp, scarcely visible from the bushes covered with snow around it. 

Unfamiliar boy did a spin in the air, landing on his quivering leg, the skate throwing frail pieces of ice before he lost orientation and landed on his side. Victor's face darkened, furrowing his eyebrows with disappointment. 

"It is extremely unprofessional to keep other people around when you have a relation to the Bratva. Mind explaining?" Victor said thinly, pulling a pistol from his clothes before making sure it is loaded. Phichit's face went ghostly pale, eyes widening with overwhelming agitation and approaching dread. He gulped loudly, and yet, gave a silent nod. He trembled as he took a glimpse of Victor's impatient expression. 

"That was Yuuri Katsuki. He is my flatmate," He explained through the blurriness that made his vision misty, his heart stuck in his throat. "He knows nothinー" Phichit rushed to add. 

"I presume it will be the best option if we leave things that way, don't you think?" Victor marveled with unexpected grin. A reincarnation of a sacred nightmare, epitome of your greatest fears, foul vision of death. "One wrong move and both of you are gone." Victor remarked, pushing the smaller boy out of the room, the pistol pressed to the lower back of Phichit's body. 

As they reached the familiar hall, the boy from outside appeared. For a split second, Victor lost a grip on his weapon and pulled the trigger, but he stopped with a hesitant hand, unable to tear his eyes off the view, curiosity taking over his senses. 

In front of them stood a visibly younger boy, oversized training clothes soaking some sweat from his body. His glasses hanging from the edge of his nose, inky raven locks of his frizzy hair combed backwards neglectedly. 

It took Victor a few seconds to take a better look at the Japanese. Seducingly exposed collarbones covered with cold sweat, well structured, deliciously curved thighs. Chestnut eyes staring innocently with a sparkle of empathy and pristineness within. A sinless chuckle of pure glee, blushing cheeks from the coldness of the winter wind. He was upon natural, a cracker covered with butter hanging from his mouth, a fluffy towel in his hand that he put around his neck. Victor's eyes widened with enraptured fascination, the primal curl of violence fading away as a miracle. 

"Phichit, you didn't warn me we might have a guest!" He said in a cheerful manner beaming at the tall male. 

Phichit, utterly puzzled by the consequence of events, nodded at his friend, gaining some bravery as he sensed the gun being pulled away gradually from his back. 

"Yuuri, I thought you would be skating outdoors! Nothing to be concerned about, he is a friend of mine." He hurried to adorn his lies, groggy smile counterfeited on his anxious face. 

"Yuuri? Phichit just told me about your profound interest in ice skating, you must be mad about it since you practiced on an icy swamp!" Victor greeted, smile of popped on his face. 

Yuuri would lie if he said he wasn't honored by the endearing compliment, it has been an eternity since someone even noticed his searing passion. 

"That is extremely kind of you to say, I suppose it really is my big childhood dream," Yuuri said shyly. "How may I call you?" 

Victor sceptically bit his lip at the question. At such moments his calmness was was both a blessing and a curse, but he couldn't resist the coziness of the other's presence. Someone who endures the silence with gratitude and leans into it. A face that tauts and shivers with repugnance as blood spreads in front of him. 

"May you call me Victor, if that'll go," He smiled half-heartedly, almost laughing at the warming atmosphere. "I had an urgent issue with the organization of some files and Phichit suggested to take care of them." Victor explained with no doubt, a classy liar that could do it without even giving a hint of fakeness. 

Yuuri couldn't deny his stare was peeling the back of your soul. 

"Oh, I see. Phichit, why are you so tense?" Yuuri joked at his friend who froze in the middle of the hallway, watching the most cruel creature turn into a witty russian with a joyful approach. He shook his head rapidly, considering his words twice. The thought of biting a bullet due to his honesty in this situation made his head spin with nervousness. 

"No reason! I'm pleased you get along!" Phichit said.

"Victor," Yuuri began, which made the taller, enigmatic male snap out of his thoughts with a delighted smile. "You could stay for a coffee! I will take a shower quickly!" Yuuri generously offered. Victor felt like a true murderer when he shook his head to decline, guilt gripping his heart. 

"It would be pleasure, but I seriously wouldn't like to be a bother. Plus time is never enough with deadlines." Victor declined politely, his hand reaching for his vibrating phone inside his pocket. 

He fixed his coat cautiously, the serene cornflower blue shade of his iris peeking from the shiny silver locks. He took one last look over the young boy, a smile of mixed emotions curved his chapped lips. 

"Be careful on your way." Yuuri said before going into his room, followed by Victor's gaze like a viper to it's prey. 

"I will come to collect the information you got me, Phichit." He reassured. 

The last thing that reached Phichit's light-headed senses were the muffled sounds of a car engine and the running water from Yuuri's shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, the Instagram I link at the end of each chapter is no longer available.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Moonlight of warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The next move touched the bottom of Victor's already leaping heart, something that he couldn't prophesy."

Victor's body melted over the leather seats, as his head got carried away by the slow rhythm of the music. "House of Envy" was a public prostitution club that would be a ruin if he didn't control a significant part of its finances. Victor wasn't the type to attend fancy meetings and had no pleasure seeing the filthy little sluts of that offered lap dances for him, their eyes rolling from the ecstasy, bodies giving off the distasteful scent of cheap alcohol.

Tonight wasn't any different. He crossed his legs high, one hand wrapped around the glass with the finest whiskey they had, the other one keeping his head steady. A diversity of tracks sounded in the room, a combination of smooth music, accompanied with young girls dancing, in contrast with the sudden change to rapid and uplifting beat, that almost matched Victor's wildly beating heart.

"Who are those ladies, Victor? They don't seem eager to do business with us." Chris commented at the sight. Tonight, Victor had a little surprise for everyone, a small victory for the whole mafia community. Chris took a mouthful sip from his glass, eyes of sinful intentions indicating his vivid fantasies. 

"Those young prostitutes were taken from the territory of our rival." Victor spoke nonchalantly, tightening his grip around the glass before putting his slender fingers in front of his mouth, where a smirk of mystery lurked. 

"Impossible!" Chris almost gasped, eyes shot opened at the older and back to the girls who were now given overflowing glasses of liquor. "We haven't identified him, moreover, Yakov warned us in advance not to step a foot into their territory. Such a mindless act could cause a war!" Chris said with rising voice, which only encouraged Nikiforov's smile to grow wider. "How did you even managed toー" He stopped realizing that Victor was the person who orders here, not him. 

"The traitor I caught spying around our place was probably here because of the prostitutes we offer. It wasn't a dire task to identify some women working for him. As pathetic as his higher ranked workers," Victor explained as the music drastically changed, loud and disturbing noises coming from the exhausted girls who continued to roll the shots in their burning throats as told. "Plus, don't view that move as a warning, Chris. If he was powerful enough or has investigated our business thoroughly, he wouldn't have lost so many people." Victor explained, unreadable expression darkened Chris's face. 

"Victor!" A familiar voice yelped from behind him, as the older turned, facing Yurio, who was glaring with so much rage at both of the males. "What on the earth are you planning at my club? What are those whores here for?" The younger said aggressively, the music echoing through his chest. 

"Language!" Victor scolded him immediately, but all of them had another thorny issue to deal with at presentー all of the females started hyperventilating, some of them drooling over the stage, some even puking at the corners. 

"Господи, what is happening here?" Yurio said as his jaw dropped, his reaction was shared by Chris who intensively stared back at Victor, who was, in fact, heartlessly smiling at the inhuman pain in their sight. 

"I'm pretty sure you have something to do with this, don't you?" Chris questioned with prominent sarcasm, while Victor on his side, cocked an eyebrow and nodded slowly in approval. "What would you give them? Did you put it in the alcohol?" 

"Don't be hilarious!" Victor cackled with laughter. "We injected them methamphetamine, not enough to kill them, but the combination of the ecstasy they were initially on and the amount of strong liquor will guarantee their death." 

"You are seriously about to let them die?" Yurio shouted, lowering his torso, his arms resting on the leather chairs. "What will we do with the bodies?" 

Victor had a long story as a torturer and a cold-blooded machine, and he had more detailed plan than anyone else could. 

"I will take them back from where I found them, of course," He said in phlegmatic response. "We will leave a little message to that unknown man. I hope he will be as kind to pick up his garbage." Victor's chuckle was an epitome of the devil's laugh, cold fingers trembling with unspoken repugnance, icy gaze over the figures having seizures over the floor. A loathsome grimace decorated his vexed expression. 

"N-Nikiforov... You underestimate him!" Chris suddenly said as he recognized the repulsing forthcoming pain of these people. "To begin with, Yakov will be pissed to his limits! We might be a criminal syndicate, but no one gave us the right to mercilessly hurt citizens!" 

Kill? What was the meaning behind this distant word. It was like a verdict, a harsh bitterness, the afterthought of the affliction. Victor knew better than anyone else, that within the label 'monster' he carried through his whole life, was standing a man with alive dignity. A man who craved to feel no remorse, just like everyone else. 

Victor's past was the only thing that destiny gifted him, a curse that forced him to shake hands with the dark side. He was taught that whoever tried to threat the family business, shall die, no matter who is standing behind the muzzle. Victor disliked to kill. It was a little comfort that those girls were all sick and periodically injected with drugs. Furthermore, those cheap sluts have probably killed many innocent, a way more than Victor could imagine.

Victor was tired, from the rotten, manipulating world, from the indifferent killers. He was tired to be on top, he was especially tired of being judged.

Because yes, Victor Nikiforov has never killed an innocent. People from the business? Plenty. Street whores that keep a steel blade in their lingerie? Their blood was his meal. Street gangs to threat citizen? Already dismissed. But an innocent person? He would never. And he loved to praise himself for it. Because in this businesses, keeping the humanity in your spirit, was harder than pulling the trigger. 

Why was Christophe using Yakov as an excuse though? 

"Chris," Victor said sternly. "I will ask you to pick up those girls and check how much of them are still alive. Then you may take the cars and transfer the bodies to the places I will tell you. After you are done, come back here to return the car keys to Yurio, plus a proof that you did your job." Victor bossily asked, finishing the sweet, mellow cocktail, grabbing his coat from the hanger and approaching the glass doors of the club. 

Chris merely retained himself from physically attacking him, that mocking and childish taunts were getting on his nerves, but he had no choice whatsoever. With a gulp, he held his frustration and irk hidden, he was in the capacity of a servant and nothing more. 

"Victor Nikiforov, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into." A retort died on his lips.

ー

Yuuri was sceptical about that, but it couldn't be any worse than wasting your time at home, right? After Phichit was working on something around the clock like a professional zombie, Yuuri had no other choice but to take a lonesome walk around the ghostly streets of Saint Petersburg. 

He had a brief break from university due to the severe weather, and tonight, when the main roads transformed into an ice-swamp like terrain and the snow gradually melted exposing the rooftops of the old fashioned buildings, he decided to take a look at one of the newly opened galleries. 

The music from his headphones didn't preoccupied his mind fully, and left a room for anxiety and overthinking to lock themselves inside his head. Yuuri's past wasn't the most ideal scenario, but all that was left from his memories were the little shattered fragments of his past life, which now turned into dust. You aren't what you are given, but what you become. 

Yuuri wished he was innocent. 

His competitive, strong personality, couldn't take the idea of his relatives struggling without him by their side. He wasn't certain about his choices, and before he would express it as an aggressive monologue inside his head. Freedom meant independence, which is hard for the irresolute. 

He couldn't have encountered that much by living in an unpopular city in Japan, however he grew emotionally enough to believe that at the end of the day you go to bed with love and forgiveness by your side, and nothing else mattered more than that. Was he safe and sound? Yes. Why couldn't then the lonesome serenade of the moon lull and calm the guilt within? 

He needed an engaging masterpiece that he'd resonate with. That's why he chose to see a gallery. 

The thirst for adventure through colors and ideas was making the boy's steps more confident. His hands were clinged into fists, resting inside his pockets, his thin scarf covering the mouth mask he wore. A typical habbit for a Japanese. 

Soon, he reached his final destination, cautiously walking over the slippery ground before reaching a fancy tile building with arched windows engulfed in light. It must be how heaven feels. Due to the late hour, he had less than two hours to take a look, but the perk was that he was mostly alone inside, a bliss for everyone who can't put up with a bustling atmosphere. 

"Yuuri."

Before he was about to step inside, a familiar, full voice cracked the silence of Yuuri's adoration. He turned his head forward, seeing an unexpected and well known face. Victor Nikiforov. 

"Hey, Victor!" Yuuri said with evident awkwardness in his voice, his hand clammy around the door handle. "I didn't expect to meet you here." He said with even more shyness in his tone, picking on his clothes. 

"I wouldn't have guessed I will bump into you today. What a coincidence!" He exclaimed with glowing eyes, the wind messing his hair. "You are intrigued by art? Another thrilling thing about your personality besides ice skating." Victor teased at the clear memory of the boy slamming his body into the thin layer of ice the other day. 

"I have various and unpredictable interests." He mumbled, gesturing with his hands. 

Victor's eyes are crystalー merry and daring. Cold and yet burning, ashen and empty. He looks so remarkably beautiful under the gust of wind that made a thousand of gentle snowflakes circle under the scattered moonlight. The enigmatic human in front of him was like a living sculpture. 

"That sounds interesting," Victor tilted his head, amazed by the reaction of the other. "Could I accompany you inside?" He suggested. 

"It will be my pleasure." Yuuri blushed, removing he mask and carelessly throwing his headphones to his pockets. Then they went inside, leaving the creeping night shadows take over the evening. 

ー 

"I had no clue you own that place," Yuuri said with admiration as they went out of the building an hour later. He quickly realized that the place belongs to Victor, after the staff politely referred to him as 'Mr Nikiforov' and let Yuuri pass without an entrance fee. "How did it start?" Yuuri questioned innocently, still dizzy by the exhibition inside. 

Both of them walked down a pitch black street following the golden light of the streetposts that leaded to a cobblestone alley in one of the parks. Victor was suspiciously peaceful around the younger, since he was no menace for him. Plus a great company that Victor awarded himself with for the relentless stress at his job. 

"Art is a tool I use to escape from my daily lifestyle, it was a question of time for me to invest into that place. I admire beautiful things like everyone else." He explained, filling his lungs with the heavy night air, catching a glimpse of some studded, drowned in moonlight stars over them. "What explains your presence here?" 

"Lack of inspiration, perhaps," Yuuri chewed in his words, but that catched Victor's attention, making his eyes gaze to the figure walking next to him. "When I do some choreography, I need some elements and ideas that can convey my feelings. I always seek for self-expression." 

"That sounds very interesting!" Victor said. "How would my place affect your ideas?" 

"The selection of pictures was compelling, you must have put so much efforts to create that place." Yuuri complimented subtly. 

Victor was alluring and very flirtatious, however, that was only a trick to lure his victims. He never had a genuine conversation over a topic that truly interested him, and currently, he was totally stiff and unable to relax and communicate, without using a formal tone. 

But Yuuri enjoyed the silence more than Victor assumed. He could go a full minute without saying a word, staring into the night horizon that resembled a black velvet blanket, spilled ink studded with million polar stars, hiding behind the puffy clouds. It kept them safe in a cradle of coldness, frost and gloom. 

"Do you work with Phichit?" Victor proceed to ask, afraid it was too late. Living with the newbie hacker was making him a potential danger, no wonder if he was playing a mind game just to get information from Victor. The older wasn't afraid, no one could even lie a finger on him without paying with his life. 

Yuuri looked at him with a wide smile, walnut eyes of warmth sparkling behind his foggy glasses as he laughed. 

"Of course not! I don't even know what his occupation is to be frank. All I know is that he creates software programs that he sells." Victor lowered his head, his silver glowy hair covering half of his face, smile of victory curving his lips upwards in a vicious grin. 

"What is your profession then?" 

"I still haven't graduated. I came to Russia before three years. I'm specializing in forensic phychology, but I work as an assistant at my courses too." He said cheerfully as he looked at the taller one. 

Yuuri was diligent and confidant student with good marks that was expected to study with management or finances, but he had quite different intentions. 

The other was unable to take his eyes off Yuuri, from his fine frame with lean muscles to the chocolate locks of hair covered in slowflakes, radiating the light syrupy sweet scent of dripping honey or a warm bakery. 

And then, like a multiple thunder of destruction and terror, the realization hit him. 

"Forensic phychology?" His face soured, intimidating glare of darkening orbs that makes you feel almost exposed, unshielded, occhiolism takes over your senses and forces you to obey. 

"Yes!" Yuuri was out of place at this moment, and if it wasn't for his intuition, he would have assumed that Victor isー "I'm going to encounter criminals. I look forward pursuing the reasons behind their acts." Victor stiffens at the response. 

"What made you so interested in such thing?" Victor instinctively reached for the weapon he carried out of pure habbit. 

The question brought a baleful smile across his face. As they passed under a gnarled old oak, Victor slowed the tempo of his walking. Yuuri had to admit, that his presence was absolutely daunting, his vague shadowy figure and dreadful, calm smirk, embraced Yuuri's mind and caused a blush to spread across his face, heart struggling to pump blood through his body. 

"I have always contemplated the meaning of our existence," Yuuri spoke, taking a moment to put his words together. Victor's strong hold on his weapon suddenly weakened as he let both of his hands rest next to his body. "I always felt it wasn't fair for those who actually have a story of their own." He mumbled again. At this, Victor continued to walk steadily, looking down at his feet. 

"What do you mean, Yuuri? Murdering is a sin, and no matter the reasons behind it, it still cannot be forgiven." He said boldly, but yet numb and uncertain. 

"Because we can only predict the true purpose behind their acts. Some of them might be pushed to survive, others might do it for the cheap thrills of crime. No matter what, I reckon that all professional criminals, are more intelligent than ordinary people." Victor didn't know if he should feel flattered for being called smart or perplexed by the bizzare opinion of the younger. 

"What is that sudden need to sympathize with people?" Victor scowled, cheeks reddening at the chilly weather. 

"If I wasn't understood before a few years by someone, I wouldn't have been here. I'm no better than most bad people." At such words, Victor's body jolted, a shiver tingling his spine, heart caged in wonder. "Under certain circumstances, people might be pushed to kill, it's an instinct reaction to protect ourselves." 

"What do you mean with all of that, Yuuri?" Victor asked with flaming curiosity, and thank lord no one saw the desire for knowledge over the face of that notorious person. Unyielding with desperation to know. 

"I'm an imaginative idealist, Victor. I let my own core beliefs and values to guide me. I wish I could fix everyone." Yuuri knew well, that battle scars existed. Bruises of swelled desperation, wounds of doubts and silver slices of pain, but they were a poignant reminder of the passing years, a reminder of strength. He never judged, since he was himself covered with such. 

He was simply interested in human's complex nature. 

"But I accepted long time ago that I can't really change everything and everyone towards better, can I?" He cheered. "Now, back to you." Victor was about to speak up when his phone rang interrupting the riveting conversation between them. Victor signed heavily as he clicked his tongue, pulling out his phone. 

"I'm sorry for that, Yuuri." He apologized, putting it back in his pocket, throat sore from sudden speaking after he spent a moment in bewitched silence. 

"Is it something from your work?" Yuuri questioned. 

"Pretty much all the time, I have no spare time. It gets a little bit on my nerves when someone decides to ruin my schedule, especially during the weekend. I haven't had a good conversation with anyone for so long!" He exclaimed, but everything he said still seemed mystifying. 

"You didn't tell me what is your job like?" Yuuri asked. Victor remained calm as he felt his hands getting sweaty, swallowing to clear his dry throat. He firstly rushed to huddle inside the thick coat as more north wind appeared. 

"Family business. Nothing special. Finances stuff." He reassured, rubbing his hands together. 

The royalty loved to feastー Victor had the manners, vocabulary even the smell of a high rank mobster. And he couldn't appreciate none of these more than the  
engaging and genuine conversations he had here with Yuuri. His innocence could be a weapon itself, he could make an amazing phychologist. 

"Doesn't sound that bad. If I didn't start with phychology I would be an ice skating champion by now!" Yuuri believed in his words for a moment, a regretful smile of insecurities crawling on his face, meanwhile he fixed his scarf. 

Another ring disturbed the silence before Victor actually opened his phone, staring with shock at the screen. 

Yurio: ー・Victor! You better pick up your phone soon!

Yurio: ー・Chris still haven't returned and it has been hours, I need to open the bar in a few more

Yurio: ー・I received a disturbing message from his phone. I hope it isn't some sort of joke but if it's true he is most likely kidnapped. Go back here

Yurio: ー・ you're dead if you don't take your ass back here immediately pick up ur phone! 

Victor's expression saddened with disappointment and got carried away with tiredness and wonder. Chris was probably right, he wasn't to underestimate. 

Kidnapped? 

Christophe could be kidnapped? 

"I'm sorry Yuuri, I got an urgent call." He informed, typing quickly back to Yurio. The Japanese nodded in understanding, catching a glimpse of Victor's watch. It was getting so late and Phichit was probably worried out of his mind. 

The next move touched the bottom of Victor's already leaping heart, something that he couldn't prophesy. 

Before he could realize, Yuuri took off his scarf, plain knitted scarf that gave off the familiar scent of washed clothes and freshness, and gave it to Victor. The mobster stared at the younger, completely bewildered and puzzled, the darkness of his eyes grew with enchantment. Hr was deaf for the words and blind for the little stars. 

"You can take that. The weather is getting really cold and you aren't wearing that much." Yuuri reassured, as the older took it, silver locks messily spreading with the violent wind, street lamp blinking right above him in contrast with the raven blackness of the hollow void void above themー constellations, stars and the silence witnessed that moment. 

A tender smile appeared on Victor's face. His eyes stayed collected, unrevealing, cold and reflectingー barely trembling with vague happiness. The feeling of being given something without wanting anything primal in return winded him. Something minor and little, yet heartwarming. 

He wrapped it quickly around his neck savoring the warmth. 

"I appreciate your endearment, Yuuri. I shall go now. Have a good evening." He said with a distant voice, the scarf covering his chapped discolored lips. Yuuri took one last glance at the aloof figure that soon became a shadow of the caliginosity. 

ー

He managed to get a proper speed before doing a triple axel, his body landing gracefully on the shattering ice pieces. He exposed his balance and stamina by a combination spin, his legs aching with anticipation and happiness. He could already sense the bruises forming on his feet, but it felt so good to dance on blades, that he wouldn't forgive himself if he stopped. 

Quad salchow... He touched the ice!

He could see his family clapping enthusiastically at a distance, but then the guilt hit him again. 

For a moment, crimson fluid steamed down his clammy hands, his muscles cramping from the tension. Triggered, he pressed his palm to his chest in an attempt not to hyperventilate as fear crippled through his widely opened eyes, his head clouded with apprehension, damp eyes desperately trying to hold the last vision of his beloved ones for a tiny bit longer. With his hand outstretched, summons their affection and long cherished presence, their picture cracked and shattered as if he was the one who demolished the frail heart of his family. 

In a last plea, he yelped with husky and rambling voice, talking too fast in terror as his body was falling down an endless netherworld, the blood forming rivers that absorbed into the frost within. 

"Forgive me, please!" His body jolted within the sweaty layer of clothes. Yuuri sat on bed as an instinct, lungs aching to consume more air, his heart tripping over itself as if it tried to escape his ribcage. The grip he had on his shirt was wrinkling the material, giving some reassurance. 

He abruptly jumped out of bed, legs quivering and stomach rambling with emptiness, yet growing sickness. With fatigue and overpowering dizziness, he went into the shower, letting the steam engulf the hotness of his tears and sweat and that soon soaked his bare chest. 

The computer light coming from the shared kitchen absorbed his attention, he was dumbfounded by the perplexed situationーhis flatmate was sleeping in front of the monitor, his eyes shot red. Right next to him on the desk, Yuuri noticed widely opened programming handbooks with many units and pages separated, words highlighted and a plastic plate with charred toasts. He almost felt the pungent bitterness on his tongue, staring at the dead setting. 

"Phichit, for the love of God, what have you been doing?" Yuuri muttered to himself as he moved his hallucinating from stress flatmate to the couch, preparing some proper drink and breakfast since the sun would rise in a bit. 

His eyes wet and shiny, limpid and barely opened, Phichit tends to overwork himself and cross his physical limits in order to strictly follow the customer's requests. His computer has overheated and ran out of power when Yuuri turned it off, wondering with worry what could possibly be more important than his health and welfare. 

But he was too sleep deprived to think about that, so he just went back to his bed, collapsing in a deep slumber. 

At least he shouldn't worry for Victorー who had the warmth of the scarf protecting him from the winter coldness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that English isn't my native language and I'm only 17 so excuse any mistakes. Constructive criticism and comments are highly appreciated!
> 
> Feel free to send me a message on Instagram:
> 
> Find me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	3. Caught In Crossfire

"That is an absurd! The worst scenario possible just occurred and you are having a daydreaming session at my place? Nikiforov, I swear to God, you need to start thinking logically before Chris pays with his own lifeー" Yuri Plisetsky bristled. 

"I cannot really structure a plan with you whining around me, Yurio." Victor cut him off, resting his sore body on the leather sofa. Victor was analytical enough to get suspicious over the smallest imperfections of every situation, therefore, hearing Yurio's version encouraged the older to make a harsh, uncertain and subjective conclusion in his thoughts.

The younger scoffed, slumping his body against the couch with an exaggerated sigh. Victor still had his hand pressing his forehead and rubbing it gently, trying to find the pressure point of his forehead, nose reddening from the coldness.

"It'a a mystery for me how Chris didn't show any sign of struggle or fight. He wouldn't give up that pathetically, which makes me presume that something is off the whole picture," Victor said, humming at himself while reaching the roots of that matter. "This whole gang seems to be a group of weaklings with badly organized plan." Victor pointed, reaching for the bottle of vine set on the glassy table.

"You won't ever admit that you underestimated them! Stop being so derogatory and hostile towards others." Victor's devil grin worked its way on his musing expression, almost giving the younger the chills.

"What is with that attitude? You don't get what I mean, do you?" The younger shook his head with a little bit of shame. "Chris can feign defeat and distraught."

"You don't think he is a traitor, right?"

"His demeanor is rather disturbing. So suave and sweet-mouthed as if he is trying to prove something. In any case, no matter his motives, Chris is no menace for us." Victor said grimly with swooning flames in his eyes, his gestures were enticing, yet coy. And Yurio still couldn't help, but shiver under the great influence of someone as dominating and experienced as Victor.

They both snapped out of their thoughts when the familiar russian song sounded, indicating a phone rang. Yurio rushed to pick up, his eyes froze at the name that popped.

"Who is that?" Victor asked, reluctantly switching his position to look at the clock. "At this late hour?"

"Yakov." Yurio answered before picking up, the familiar voice of rage, damaged as the years past, coughed dryly before growling in animalistic way over the phone.

"Yurio! Victor hasn't been answering his phone! Moreover, I got a very unanticipated and strange call by unknown number that claims to keep Christophe as hostage!" Yurio nibbled on his lip, consoling himself with the fact that Victor was next to him. His jade green iris widened with wonder. 

"That is a truthー" Yurio didn't even finish his explanation before Yakov attacked him verbally with vulgar and pretty cynical words in Russian.

"Do you want to bring me a heart attack?! How dare he even rub his nose in someone else's business!" Victor couldn't stand a word more from the disheartened ex leader of the Bratva. He took the phone abruptly from Yurio's hand and greeted the other teasingly.

"Yakov, what a pleasure to hear from you at this hour! What was so urgent that it couldn't wait until tomorrow morning? You just interrupted a sweet scene between two brothers having a talk." Victor said with invigorating tone, crossing his legs. He completely relaxed his tensed muscles and let the sofa take all his weight. 

"Victor, don't play that game with me! It will be for your own good to tell me what mess you've caused, because here I got a call from someone who might kill one of our people." He yelled with frustration, breathing heavily. Victor drank some more of the liquor, that didn't really had any affect over him, but made him a little bit more rebellious, something which is always appreaciated by Yakov.

"What did they tell you?" Victor's voice dips with tease and danger, and he knew that Yakov found his tone sweltering. "If I may know?"

"You need to prepare a few of our people. He gave me the address of an old administration building that is perhaps abandoned." Victor listened cautiously with growing interest. "They claimed that Chris is with them." Victor was totally disappointed. So many traitors, cheap sluts, an unknown boss and no one managed to think of a better plan than keeping a hostage. What was the worth of his leadership when he was surrounded by imbeciles and amateurs. 

"What did they want?"

"You Vitya," Yakov's words were hesitant. He knew how reckless his protege is. Scrunching his nose with irritation, Victor gave them a second of silence, an intense moment that made even the fudging Yurio move from his spot. "I need time to prepare for that, he is probably professionally armed. I need you to gather the best men and meet me tomorrow by eight in the evening. Don't forget that the situation is very delicate, not only because he is keeping Chris, but because a restaurant is attached to the old building, and if we pay a visit during broad sunlight, we might get involved with the policeー"

"You are blabbering, old fox." Victor mocked. "I'm trying to scrounge some sleep here and regain my energy. Be kind and let me recharge." Victor said lowly, before ending the conversation.

"What are we doing now?" Yurio questioned. "Oi, old man, don't make me wait like this! Chris will pay with his life if you don'tー"

"I can't tolerate your impertinence. Behave." Victor coyly warned. "God, since when have you started talking like Yakov? Chris isn't a kid. Let's get my car and wake some of the guards up."

"Are we going?!" Yurio's voice got higher as he got startled, stumbling upon his leg. His hair wasn't combed, light, almost platinum blonde locks hiding his violated and fiery eyes. Victor nodded as he dealt a different number, speaking in Russian before instructing Yurio to bring him the most suitable weapons he had in store. 

That cocoon will turn out to be a crimson butterfly one day. 

_

"How long are we supposed to sit in here like pathetic maroons?" Yurio snapped, before shaking Victor's shoulder. His hand was almost harshly blocked as the older's chuckled at his brother's impatience. Waiting was not only the most vexing part of every single attack they planned, but baffling tooーhe views it as an absolute waste of valuable time.

The Mercedes was parked carefully in front of a lively street. Nothing appeared to be off with the hustling scene of people chatting, petulantly leaving and going inside the different buildings.

Victor was putting a suppressor on his pistol with care, shifting the heavy weapon from hand to hand. His next move was to pull out a fancy black suitcase, where he took a cartridge for the gun. As he loaded it with a loud click, he proceeded to put on his leather gloves and grey coat, that was the best way to cover every weapon within its dense material. There were other little toys the younger had, like a black knuckle duster that he bestowed his boss with pleasure. 

"Victor," Yurio started, catching the older's attention. "How did you know that this is the place we were about to attack tonight? Yakov didn't clearly stated the location." Victor nodded in agreement.

"That's right. The truth it, I own a facility nearby so I was aware that there are abandoned administration offices next to a loud restaurant on the same street. It was hinted," He succeeded getting the other's jaws dropped at his logical and accurate statements. "Wait exactly 5 minutes. After that, you rush inside the building and find Chris whilst i'm fighting. " Victor explained and then disappeared between the buildings in the tiny street.

The enigmatic figure of the tall silver haired man approached the back entrance, but quickly managed to hide behind the wall as he saw a few men talking with booming voices. He frowned and prepared his weapon, finding a squeaky window to get in from, the coldness of the walls tingling his skin. 

In other cases, he would instantly pull the trigger and end all of them at once, however, the circumstances were quite different. People would have seen the dead bodies and call the police, furthermore, the main aim of this mission was to take Chris back. With all the badly organized schemes this gang had, Victor convinced himself that those are amateurs.

He found himself in a clean room with glassy arch over the door frame, desk overflowing with clutches of documents. He saw his name over a headline that was about to be attached to a board with a pin. The mafia prodigy barely gulped feeling a limp getting stuck in his throat, the anticipated rush of adrenaline making his hands sweaty. He wasn't promised tomorrow and that is the most uncomfortable and woeful fact. Before he reacted to look at the related materials about him, a big white man with beard ran into the room, which made Victor pull the trigger instinctively.

The bullet found its place between the man's eyes and knocked him on the floor, the loss of blood draining the life out of him. The cold gaze stared at the man's unyielding chest, just to ensure that he was dead. Victor carefully hid the still hot muzzle in his clothes, leaning against another wall, before a group of mobsters came to his sight. It took him a moment to regulate his frantic breathing and stabilize his posture, trembling at the sight of death in front of him. 

"Come out." A voice said with evident Russian accent. He came out oddly happy and it took a second for everyone to pull out their weapons and embark on a bloodbath and violent screams, just to meet a tight-lipped smirk of wrath. 

"As you wish." 

_

"It was been over 5 minutes!" Yurio said giving a sign to the Russians at the backseat to move behind him. They tried to not be evident, a pistol hanging from Yurio's collar, a tanto blade hiding underneath the logm sleeves of the red sweater. Four men gaped at the younger and the men behind him.

The teenager was agile to pull out his weapon and shoot, missing the most vital organs, but it wasn't a big deal as long as the sight of their blood caused sudden dizziness. It felt like a slap for them, nausea crept over their their drained faces, unresponsive. Yurio felt a steady thudding against his breast bone, drops of sweat steaming down his pale skin.

"Let's get inside." He commanded, with the men following him obediently, looking around frantically for any potential danger. As soon as they opened the door, a revolting view left a long lasting print of it's disruption and crimson signature.

Three bodies of men were lying on the floor in a puddle of arterial, fresh blood, their eyes opened with agitation and lost pleads, chest bleeding heavily. Only the clues of Victor's presence were left, and it was monstrous. 

Yurio couldn't help put press a hand to his opened mouth, his vision got blurry and unclear by the disgusting scent of death filling the air. He still was in disbelief, how was a human, a simple human like Victor, able to eliminate three adults with a blink. What was that inner strength that gifted him with luck, talent and precise coordination, with ruthlessness to practice his own sense of justice. Yurio barely took his eyes off the scattered bodies with repugnance and panic, giving instructions with quivering voice. 

"Search the whole level for Chris. Hurry! " He ordered, pressing a finger to the men's throat, finding a weak pulse. With that, he pulled the pocket blade out pressing it to their weakening heart rate. "Victor shall be proud. " 

Meanwhile, Victor was walking down the upstairs corridor, his shoes clicking with a triggering warning of his attendance. Rather bare and hunted place for someone from a high rank class, prestigious enough to conquer the boss. Victor sighed with a little grin of mischief. There was a room with pretty uncommon noises coming from it so he decided to check, and as expected the coward responsible for all the trouble was covering himself in there. 

A specious room with a double bed, wrinkled filthy sheets and a man standing half naked next to the opened window. Victor's predatory chuckle devoured the man's rising terror, he was insignificant below the loaded gun pointed at his head. At such moment, he couldn't move a muscle, his mind paralyzed with remorse and horror. 

"Thwarted your little plans, hm?" Victor hummed at the petrified figure. "Scumbag. Take a step forward and kneel down." Victor ordered, watching him increase the proximity by taking a shaky step, his breathing getting swallow, eyes popping out from their orbs with grave panic. 

"Please, n-noー" His useless pleads whispered like a litany of a sinner were interrupted by Victor's punch in the pressure point located on his throat. He choked for a moment, before being grabbed off guard and pushed to a chair, chains clicking behind his back. The man could encounter the nightmarish heaviness of Victor's breathing over his sweat soaked skin, being under the grip of someone who could mentally and physically wreck you was not only the worst verdict, but also a hair-raising horror movie that you will beg to come to an end. 

Victor inwardly laughed at the submission showed to him, crystal eyes glaring from behind his silver, curved demurely lowered eyelashes. He desired to serve that man the punishment he deserved for depriving the Russian from rest, causing a dispute between him and Yakov and kidnapping his servant, and the ominous silence that reigned between them just prepared his victim for the conclusion of his torture. 

"I did a little surprise with my early visit. Your servants aren't paying enough respect to guests," Victor scolded the shaking figure with wrathful smile. "They suffered their verdict, but now we need to take care of you, shall we?"

Victor had the ability to mentally provoke someone to the point of giving them a breakdown, or scaring them to literal death. He moved a little bit forward, causing the sweating, terrified inferior to yelp in anguish. He was gifted to torture people, martial arts practice taught him all vital pressure points and sensitive areas that nobody regardless their stamina and preparation, could take being abused. And people break when they are put in pain.

Victor's signature methods were rather brutal and more sadistic than the popular ones. Victor needed to quench his thirst for revenge and moreover to find answers. It was a basic rule he was shown as a kid by Yakov. Probably why Victor never viewed his job as a business deal, but more like a personal matterーit was all that kept him hanging in his youth. 

"He will find you. It is going to be the end of your career." The man blunted out and immediately regretted, tears rolling down his swollen face. Victor turned around, venomous expression transformed into a brutal, murdering hell that everyone could be drowned in.

"You shouldn't worry about me. Mind sharing the name of your boss?" Victor questioned, and as expected, he got a negative shook of the other's head. How daring, he is quite adamant.

"Kill me already. You won't get a word from me." 

Victor was about to speak, but something got both of their attentions.

A siren sounded and Victor saw a police car, parked in front of the restaurant. Inclined to assume that someone complained about the noise, Victor found a tricky and twisted solution of the situation.

"Nikiforov! Don't tell me you got the police involved! You have influence over them?!" The man trips over his own words, as if they choked him.

Victor didn't call the police. It was a pure coincidence. Notwithstanding, he could benefit from the situation greatly. 

"You have a choice. Either speak and inform me about the name of your boss and some additional information about your identify, or I can quickly make up a scene where you finished everyone in the building. Covering your boss will cost you a lot," Victor's suggestion was harsh. "If you pick to speak up, I will not only spare your life, but guarantee a lawyer who can ensure your freedom and independence outside the country." Victor suggested with infuriating smile, leaning closer. 

The man believed naively in the sweet fakeness of the Russian accent, falling in a trap.

"JJ," The nickname made Victor frown, clocking an eyebrow in surprise. He didn't assume that the man will say everything without being pushed further. "He uses the nickname of JJ, but we know nothing more. He promised all of us part of Nikiforov's business if we obeyed!" He mentally cackled with laughter. "In my back pocket..." The man stuttered, chest heaving rapidly. "You can get a little notebook with some related sources. We could be a teamー"

Victor reached to grab the scattered little notebook, hearing Yurio's voice at distance. A heady smile of lurking gorgeousness allured his mystifying features, he leaned forward and ran his blue eyes over the pitiful man.

"W-Wait, w-whatー" He was interrupted by a heated muzzle pressed to his forehead and Victor's intense scowl. Between the brief gasp and sob of despair, the man's body dropped on the cold floor attached to the chair, blood spraying Victor's shirt. The traumatizing, yet delicious merlot color of his blood gushed and his body turned numb and breathless.

Victor's heart was squeezed by the triggering recollection of his first encounter with the crimson fluid, that was as a matter of fact, covering his own body. Only a memory that left no clues of its existence, but was a permanent trauma of Victor's childhood. So much agony and grief in only one bullet, one brief second of destiny, one forlorn soul that craved redemption. 

"До свида́ния." He non chalantly mumbled in his native language, turning to the door. 

Victor entered the car with a smug of pride on his face, looking at Chris who was sitting with his arms crossed. Victor heard actual police car sirens, and assumed that they will find the bodies. He wasn't a fool. After shooting everyone from the first floor, using gloves that prevented him from leaving footprints, the monster killed the man from the second floor and put the gun in his right hand, scribbling a note over a paper from the little notebook. 'Forgive me.' 

"Chris, how are you?" Victor's sarcastic concern sounded, making Chris glare at him with annoyance. "Did those big bad men scare you?" Victor's humour was rather dark and not really at place, but a great way to expose Chris's relation to the gang. 

"You suddenly got talkative, Nikiforov," Chris smirked, looking over his shoulder. "These men aren't to joke with. JJ is keeping them under control and constant surveillance." 

"He still was unprepared for our visit." Yurio added from the front seat. 

"Did you talk with them, Chris?" Victor questioned. 

"Not really. They forced me to stay in a room at the basement. I was desolated by everyone for a few hours, interesting enough, they didn't require any information." Victor's tongue clucked in disapproval. 

"Chris." Victor began. "If you didn't talk with anyone, how did you know the name of their boss is JJ?" Everyone froze in the car, Chris tensed at the statement. "Cat got your tongue?" 

The guards already kept their pistols pointed at Chrisー Victor was sure than the other had something in mind since the very beginning. Now, as he knew a name he couldn't have if he didn't talk to anyone, Victor's theory was correct. 

"Nikiforovー" Chris began,   
puzzled by the doubt of Victor, nonetheless, he perfectly knew he wasn't innocent. 

"I'm not in the mood to deal with your explanation. Let me inform you that Yakov had faint in you, he prepared so many people to guarantee your protection against the new rival and you are being secretive," Victor turned left down a main road. "I will send you to Yakov in Moscow and let him decide what to do with you. You are no longer my responsibility. You are at his mercy." 

Chris got quiet and bit his lip with an expression of disbelief. He never meant to betray or disappoint, he just got involved in something more than just the business. Yakov trusted Victor like his own son and he wouldn't be able to escape from Yakov's hands when exposed to have plans against his precious hair. 

"I believe in your innocence Chris. You wouldn't betray me that easily. However, I would like you to give all the information to Yakov, he would love to handle the situation, especially after I disobeyed him." Chris nodded at the cackling laughter before mumbling a muted "Thank you". 

_

Chris was immediately transferred to the airport. Victor was in need of a break, humans are so fragile and weak if you burden them with the weight of guilt and dirt, and even the mighty had their own specific ways to unwind after a rough day. 

It takes at least a few days for the gunpowder scent to be rinsed off and a lot more for the memory to decompose. Victor wouldn't lie if he said that the potential he carried wasn't intimidating even for him. It was a phobia that one day he may lose control over his composure. 

No one was inspired by an unsettling conversation with someone who can describe the sight of a dying person with daunting details, the main reason why Victor had a private, introverted life where he could enjoy some beautifully composed music or the luminous, red lights of the Russian's vintage streetposts. Occasionally he would let his dog snuggle against him on the fabric corner sofa. Other times he would grab a random poetry book or a novel from the dusty shelves and dive into the ideal ways of escape. He was a human, after all. Enforced to commit his life into something that he himself abhorred. 

"Oi, old man." Yurio said and threw a little pillow at the man who was wearing a white shirt, his hair wet and shiny. "I'm going to 'House Of Envy'. Apparently the man I left there to monitor it has ended his shift." 

"Go on." Victor said indifferently, opening a bottle of cold water, a favour for his itchy throat and chapped lips. 

The day has bleed into a nightfall that allowed the elegy of the day soundー the streets resembled a desert without a single well, stars scattered like moondust across the night abyss. 

If Victor didn't feel like a prisoner to engrave his fate with a knife, he would have used a featherー and take the night blackness as an ink. 

Yurio's evoke brought him back to reality. 

"Victor! What is this old scarf! You seriously need to reconsider your styleー" 

"Put it down," Victor ordered, seeing Yurio hold the scarf that Yuuri gave him. If it wasn't for that dull knitted scarf, he would have had a sore throat and a cold. It was warm and softer than he guessed, and he had to return it to Yuuri soon. "It was given to me by someone." 

"Victor, are you seeing someone?!" Yurio exclaimed. 

"Don't get your hopes up. He is pretty intriguing and talking with him over different topics is a bliss. Still , he is either dense or truly uninterested. He looks distracted all the time." 

"Said by the man who doesn't respond to his phone while distracted by the view outside." Yurio teased. 

"Didn't you say you were going out? I need space anyway." Yurio nodded. 

"Get personal life old man." 

Yurio scoffed before loudly banging the door shut closed anf leaving the older under the ecstasy of his vivid fantasies, plans and ideas. A peaceful night inside a safe place with a great view to spoil Victor's imagination was a much needed praise for his constant hard work. 

With a little bleary smile of tiredness, Victor took a look at the scarf, nodding to himself. He already knew what he wanted and how absurd and hard it would be to possess. 

But who is Victor Nikiforov to admit defeat? 

With that thought, the last street lamp blinked with vulnerability, covered with snowflakes of silence and thick frost, lulling Victor to sleep with it's comforting gloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My native language uses cyrillic alphabet, just like Russian, so you might see Russian phrases for diversity around the story.
> 
> Thank you for reading :) Comments are much appreciated. 
> 
> Find me on Instagram:  
https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	4. Take My Soul Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness again! And thank you for taking from your time to ready work, I hope you enjoy it! Comments, feedback and simply your presence here is highly appreciated! 
> 
> Feel free to contact me on my Instagram, my username is dark_nikiforov :)

"What is happening?" Phichit cried out, hands shivering over the keyboard as he hissed and continued typing. The monitor of his computer went black, and he could not restart it no matter what he tried. 

The sudden panic in Phichit's voice didn't stay unnoticed by Yuuri, who had his legs drawled up underneath himself leisurely trying to prepare a philosophical report with some crumbled papers on his lap, tapping with the pencil restlessly, his bare feet cold, seeking warmth from the old decorative pillows. His face was in compete difference from the rest of his cold bodyー cheeks rosy, eyes glassy as he carefully took out the little bag of tea from his mug filled with the herbal, heated beverage. 

"What happened to your computer?" Yuuri questioned, peering at his friend whose worry was evolving into utter panic, trying to restart the device with every possible method. When it finally loaded, it sent a bunch of blocking messages that eventually crashed the whole system. 

Logically, Phichit reached a conclusion that the system was blocked by some of the viruses the flash drive card had. He attempted to avoid as many as possible whilst hacking out tthe code, but they still somehow reached the system. 

Phichit tried everythingー at first place, he called Chris, but his phone was either turned off or ran out of power. With enraged expression, he went through all of the things he had done to protect his device like installing software updates for his type of operating system, but eventually that couldn't be prevented. 

It wasn't professional to have only one simple device when you are engaged at your work. Every anonymous hacker and programmer had to ensure the security of his system, yet Phichit was just like Yuuri, a student with low budged who couldn't bear the expense of new computer. 

The next step was too risky, however he managed to decipher the main passwords of the files and if the damned virus didn't reach the system he would have gathered enough information. He had enough earned from the system and ready to be reported. 

The only place that Chris gave him as a location to be found was 'House Of Envy'. 

"Yuuri," He spoke, ignoring the other's concern, chair thrown at the corner of the room, papers with highlighted programing information all over the carpet. "We are going to a nightclub."

_

Down the dingy streets of the most dangerous area in Saint Petersburg, 'House Of Envy' opened it's gates of hell every evening, welcoming some people with prestigious reputation and some unknown faces who possessed enough money to enjoy the extra deals the club made. From a nightclub to a prostitution house, this place of extortion and gambling was the dirtiest and most shameful thing Nikiforov could own. 

With a sigh he shrugged his shoulders and leaned back to his place, taking a steady breath as the music rambled through his chest up to the back of his throat. 

The noise was surely going to bring him a massive headache that he chronically had at this point. Reaching to rub his temple simultaneously from both sides, he watched as his people successfully gave some illegal pornography materials to the clients, offering high quality cocktails of drugs. No restrictions. You could kill. It happens faster than snapping with fingers, and you no longer hear the song that played for an eternity now. 

An abrupt thunder of tension cramped his neck again, clack of someone's heels approaching behind. 

"Victor, some pathetic kids rushed through the bodyguards. Something seems to be off. They claim to personally know you." Yurio said with exasperation, his blond hair no longer straightened, falling over his exposed shoulders and bony clavicles, ring choker around his neck, nicotine stinking his bare attire. 

"Pretty rich coming from someone underage," Victor smugly grinned, pushing the silver locks of his hair back.  
"What name did they give you?" 

"Pretty sure one of them introduced himself as Phichit or whatever. The looks like a kid who is either terrified or upon perplexed." 

Victor's stomach welled with anxiety. 

Yuuri? 

Yurio couldn't have noticed the intense emotion emanating from the older, busy with his own cigarette. It must have been someone he knew well. 

"Accompany them to the back exit and tell them to wait there for me." Victor ordered, his hand in front of his mouth, tapping on his lips with wonder. 

What would Yuuri do at such sleazy place late at night? Moreover, what was he doing at a prostitute house? The timid boy who wanted to fix criminals, the one who could engage deep conversations and comfort the other person enough to speak about his youth. The boy who blushes when you hold an eye contact with him is at one of the most ruthless places known to Saint Petersburg. Could there be something dangerous behind the sheer wit? That was preposterous. An absurd! Victor who has seen things upon ugly, couldn't believe in such a simple fact. 

After a moment he eagerly rushed to the back exit, seeing Yurio keeping a close eye to both of them, smoke enveloped his skinny frame, the cigarette thin between his painted nails. Victor was solaced by the absentminded Yuuri, whose eyes were exploring the daunting and gloomy scene around with a vivid twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.

"Nikiforov, I managed to decipher the passport of the files, however my computer broke down because of the viruses that spread!" Phichit stammered anxiously and for a moment he heard nothing but the muffled beat of the music. Yurio lit another cigarette, leaning to the dusty walls observing the initially innocent guy. 

"Why didn't you manage to inspect all the information?" Victor growled. 

"I tried. I swear I did! But my damn computer broke down. I tried calling Chris, he wouldn't pick his phone whatsoever." 

"He isn't going to. Chris is in Moscow," Victor informed, gaining a surprised gasp from the thai boy. "So, what are you saying? You need different computer to continue working?" Victor furrowed at eyebrow, crossing his fingers. 

"I know it will be a bother, nevertheless, I'm so close!"

"Are you convinced that the new computer won't get hacked?" 

"It won't. I got all the files on my own flash drive, the damaged one with all the errors and viruses is at home." Victor smirked at the news, his gaze falling on the casually dressed boy who was still staring at the ground with defeat. Yuuri had his eyes gazing at the night abyss, as if he contemplated about something that gave him great inspiration. 

"Yura! I need your favour with something. It's related to the most recent matter that has troubled us." With that being said, Victor saw Yurio's eyes narrowing with glare and gleaming with unwavering interest. 

"I'm listening." 

"This is Phichit, the underground hacker I mentioned before. He will need to use one of the computer cabinets at our building. Why don't you bring him to Chris's office? He needs to get some information for me." Victor said with big smile and an soundless hum. 

"What?! You will make me look over someone trying to hack the system of our rival?" Despite the whole meter distance, Yurio's yelp startled even Yuuri, who was visibly suspicious over the whole situation. 

"You can do whatever you want with him. Leave the bar to whoever is available." 

"Oi, wait a moment! Where are you going?" Yurio snapped with an aggrieved shout that reflected with the night echo, allowing Phichit to take several prompt steps and get inside the smoke shrouded building. 

Victor's gaze shifted to Yuuri, waiting for the uneasiness to vanish underneath the moonlight. The menace turned into dust, his chest shuddering, amuck. He could now make sure the younger reaches home unscathed, away from the criminals locked inside the building behind him. 

"I have a little business to get done with his flatmate." 

_

"Yura is like a little brother to me! He takes care of the nightclub. I think I mentioned the family business is quite large." Victor thoughtfully explained as him and Yuuri just arrived into Yuuri's flat. Whilst Victor's doubts about Yuuri's innocence were fully demolished, the Japanese had a bad intuition that all of this suspicious business is revolving around Victor. But who wouldn't? With a click of the key inserted into the door's lock, Yuuri got into his apartment and warmly invited Victor who resembled a stray puppy that prayed to come inside. 

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Victor. I'm aware or that. I prefer us to talk about you, we didn't get to the last time." Yuuri suggested. Victor's head was still spinning because of the extroverted, overly companions atmosphere at the club, dizziness draining his energy. 

He sprawled his body over the couch, looking at the unorganized books around the kitchen. They must have left shortly after the computer got damaged. That enlarged the percentage of Yuuri's innocence, if there is something to doubt, he would have had a plan and enough time to get everything into order. Thigns seemed hazy, too fast paced. 

"Thank you for accompanying me home, would you like something to drink?" Yuuri offered while reaching for the fridge door, just to see a satisfyingly amount of everything insideー eggs, cottage cheese, toast bread and fruits, even a bottle of untouched red wine. 

Yuuri wasn't prone to drinking, but he spoilt his taste with wine one in the blue moon. 

The other yet shook his hand with disapproval, even if he hasn't consumed any alcohol he wasn't in the mood for any. 

"What's the matter?" Came a query by Yuuri who inspected the russian with concern. "Do you have a headache?" 

Victor nodded with his last licks of power left, a rhythmical pounding of blood twitching his temple. 

"I will bring a painkiller and open a window for some fresh air." Yuuri reassured, getting the last blister of nurofen he had left to ease the older's discomfort and filled a glass of water. 

"Yuuri, my everyday lifestyle is too monotonous, I need something that would excite me," The russian said with mischief shortly after swallowing his pill, as Yuuri took his coat off, placing it aside. "We shall go out somewhere! Since we have so many things to talk about, do you want us to have dinner? I owe you for the scarf." 

Yuuri couldn't help but laugh hearty at the smartly dressed man, sitting in the hard green couch. His presence was indeed enigmatic, a splendid, uncanny and intriguing piece to have. A fancy restaurant didn't spoil his attention, he was up to something a way more casual and convenient. The older scoffed at Yuuri's laughter, silver eyebrows knitted together. 

"Victor, should we just stay home? I can cook pretty well for phychologist." Yuuri blushed, not being able to deny the sparkles of attraction that made his heart skip a beat while talking. The bashful reaction resulted in Victor's intense gaze to soften, the melodious voice curing the persistent migraine. 

"Is that so? Sounds good to me!" Victor's smile grew, shimmering twinkles with satisfaction darted in his eyes, charismatic tiny dimples appearing. Yuuri nodded before rushing to the bathroom to wash his hands. "Yuuri, what is your favorite meal?" 

"Katsudon." Victor found himself staggered by the unusual name.

"Is it what you will be cooking right now?" He curiously inquired.

The other nodded again while cautiously chopping onions and mixing egg yolks. After just a bit, the room filled with warm and restful conversations of Yuuri's resemblance with his mother and Victor's favorite teacher in the boring private school he was forced to attend. 

"Yuuri, that smells amazing!" Victor was like a little puppy, who was impatiently expecting his owner to pet him, worlds apart from the stoic and reserved man from the club earlier. The intimidating glare of the cold startlingly glaring orbs, somehow alarming and primal, somehow observing and intelligent, was erased with the dim lights from the outside. 

The most astonishing, misty and deep shade of blue was calmer than a the summer ocean, like a melting snowflake over someone's shoulder. The older wanted for a single night to be just a regular human. 

"Something caught your eye?" Victor questioned seeing the other staring with reverie in his eyes. Yuuri's in comparison to Victor's, were nurturing, coaxing and indulging, in shades typical for the leaves in an autumn morning, timid and admirable. 

Yuuri was elated to see the older in an atmosphere he deserved to be inー even if it was a makeshift dinner with no candles or romantic background music, the happiness drawn on his sharp features was completely enough for Yuuri to believe that he is happy. 

And oh Yuuri could take off by hand every single thorn of a rose or drain a whole river just to keep that childish, fond smile that quirks on Victor's face over the most minor things. 

His eyes were melting with delight just to steal an eye contact with Victor's, combined with a blush across his cheeks and around his glasses. Victor, with the heartless person he was thought to be, couldn't help but coo at the warmth Yuuri's body and presence radiated. 

"I think it's almost ready." Yuuri pointed at the food while handing the extra large and steamy cutlet bowl to Victor, sitting right in front of him, his heart beating out of his ribcage. 

"Vkusno!" Victor exclaimed that almost frightened the younger, followed with a loving smile as he wolfed down his food. "Yuuri, i'm not certain about your phychology career, but you will be much appreciated as a chief!" Victor mocked and continued eating, stomach turning amd twisting with emptiness. 

"I'm positive you will need a chief, considering the long hours you work." Yuuri responded with brisk smile, fingers wrapped around the wooden chopsticks. 

"And all of those long hours I pour into business," Victor sighed. "I rarely get private and casual conversations like I do here." Yuuri blinked a few times, redness spreading across his face up to his ears. 

The fear of intimacy was consumed by the night. 

Victor appreciated the messy raven hair radiating the warmest scents, soulful large eyes of comfort, graceful and dainty fingers that would always pick on his clothes or glasses when he was anxious.

Our hearts are caged, but could Yuuri be observant enough to notice that Victor's was locked in a burning revolver?

Is that what this set of luminous crystal orbs reflected? 

"What is something that no one assumes that you do?" Yuuri fixed his glasses, taking a bite from the crunchy meat. 

"I have a dog!" Victor's seriousness vanished all of a sudden as he smiled excitedly. "Her name is Makkachin, such a good girl! I wish you could meet her, but sadly Yakov is taking care of her." 

"You aren't serious! I had a dog too! What an irony, his name was Vicchan, which is like a nickname for Victor in Japanー" 

"Wow! Yuuri, that is such a coincidence! Destiny had something in mind!" Victor bursted out cheerfully. "What happened to Vicchan then?" 

"Vicchan..." Yuuri looked at the almost emptied, still heated bowl in his hands, his eyes expressing so much melancholy and griefーVictor was quick to understand what the sudden pause meant. His face saddened a little bit, the corners of his mouth dropping into a little pout as he sympathetically nodded. 

"I would love to see some pictures of him, if you don't mind. I'm sure he was a sweetheart." Victor said gently. At this, Yuuri enthusiastically nodded, taking a sip from the foggy cup of water. 

"Who is Yakov actually?" Yuuri questioned. "You said he is taking care of Makkachin?" Victor rested his chin on his hand, making a quick logical explanation in his head. 

"My father figure," Victor said. "Well, in simple words, he is the person who brought me up." Yuuri's eyebrows furrowed with doubt. "What about you, Yuuri? What is your family like?" 

And if Victor could maintain a stern tone talking about the fragments of his aching past, Yuuri's younger and frail mentality couldn't keep that subject for too long. A prolonged moment of silence occurred, when a quiet voice sounded. 

"My parents are running a hot springs resort in my birth city." 

"Oh, that is new." Victor wondered. He had only heard unproven stories about those placed in movies, nonetheless, his knowledge and culture for Yuuri's country didn't stretch further than some academic lessons. 

"It has always been my parent's main source of finances. I always helped around, since I wasn't that busy besides maintaining high grades." Victor lowly hummed, resting back on the couch, his legs crossed, thirsty to hear more. 

"It must be a valuable lesson to be independent. At home, I was partly a brat who Yakov gifted with unlimited attention, private lessons and prestigious education, now thinking back, it was quite boring." Victor signed, sparing the disturbing details of his childhood, including murdering, deprivation of emotional support and lessons of self-defense. 

"I didn't have much of an intriguing lifestyle Victor," Yuuri said, picking the dishes and placing them in the sink, running the water over them. "I was very dedicated to my studies and that is why I didn't socialize much. Skating was my escape from the bleak dullness in Hasetsu." 

"I see." Victor spared him the fact that he craved to see the Japanese skate on the icy swamp nearby. With a little sign, Victor peered at his watch, stretching his arms a little bit before getting up from the couch and taking his coat. 

"Are you going already?" Yuuri asked, drying his hands on a towel. Despite his inner desire to stay and hear the delicate and soft voice of the younger, Victor had to check how Yurio is handling his not so innocent flatmate. 

And nevertheless, such a dear and lovely sound like Yuuri's voice could make a monster's heart bloom with obedience, it could tame a beast and sooth a night owl, pacify a howlimg wolf and make the stars shift beyond the darkness. 

"For my dismay, I ought to. I should just head to my apartment." Victor informed pulling out his phone to type a message to Yurio. 

"I was about to ask you to stay the night. It is already midnight and from my insignificant experience, It is not safe to walk alone in the dead of the night in Russia." Yuuri said, crossing his arms. 

Victor was in absolute inner conflict. He never needed to stay around someone for longer than a few minutes. Why would he allow the loneliness envelop his heart now? He had his usual weapon in his coat, he shall be safe. Or not? 

This time he actually nodded slightly, causing Yuuri's eyes to obtain all the euphoria and excitement. He analyzed the situation, and there was a very small chance of Yuuri attacking him. He didn't risk anything by staying the night. 

"I'm not sleeping in Phichit's bed, just to make clear!" Victor trips over his own word, simultaneously laughing. 

"Of course not. The sofa is more comfy than Phichit's bed, I guarantee." Yuuri pointed at the corner sofa, before rushing to his room to pick some necessities, followed by Victor whose rising interest grew stronger. 

Yuuri's room was just as anticipatedーa single bed located under the window at the bottom, messy grey duvet over it. Yuuri had an overflowing desk with books, countless piles of papers hanging from the drawers, a neutral scheme of colors painting the whole room. No blaze of light was warming the sheets, it was facing north. The only colorful element in the greyish bare room was the little manga collection Yuuri had on the upper shelf. 

Cozy. The Mafia boss thought. 

"That is the best one I found," Yuuri graced at the black shirt he handed to Victor, pulling an extra towel from another storage place under the bed. "You can use the bathroom, I will finish the dishes." Yuuri informed before rubbing his eyes with drowsiness. 

"You didn't specifically tell me why you are studying in Russia, I thought Japanese education is a way better. How are you dealing with the language?" Victor questioned while Yuuri was preparing the couch with care. 

"Under certain circumstances, I had no other choice."

Victor cocked an eyebrow. 

"And my Russian is no better than my cooking." Is that so? Victor wondered with astound. Before literally a minute Yuuri depicted his life as a happy and healthy environment, what suddenly changed him? 

Victor was eager to know. 

_

The only light was coming from Victor's screen, as he lazily lay his body on the squeaky taupe couch, covering his chronically freezing feet with the blanket Yuuri gave him. Poor blood circulation wasn't a joke and Yuuri took care of that before locking himself in his room. Victor's hand was resting on his temple as usual, nose slightly red, he was concentrated on the Japanese's intentions. 

The malignancy of Victor's nature was the most threatening and harmful thing around the night streets, and Yuuri was concerned about his well being. With a low chuckle, he savored the tranquility of the moment, the quietness within the puffy blanket of clouds outside, the gentle shadow of every object in the room. 

Victor opened his phone to send a message.

・'Yura, I need you to search for one name in particular. It won't configurate in the system, so take all the information from Phichit. Be delicate. Make him speak.

The name is Katsuki Yuuri.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse any errors or mistakes, I'm going my best to improve my english (:
> 
> My username on Instagram is dark_nikiforov
> 
> Feel free to contact me there
> 
> Here is a link to my Instagram, if the link does not work, just search dark_nikiforov
> 
> Here is a link : https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	5. Ashes Of Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is much appreciated as well as comments. Interaction for me is the key to improvement. Format, punctuation, spelling or whatever. i'm not a native English speaker and I'm only 17 so if you notice something that could be worked on, don't hesitate to share as a comment or on my Instagram. I'm open minded to all opinions and ideas :)

It wasn't like Yuuri to hang around the apartment with blue, dog themed pajama and comfortable slippers. The fact that Victor slept on the couch slipped out of his mind in the wee hours of the morning. He saw the figure, with feet peeking out of the blanket, curled on the sofa with a little decorative pillow huddled in his arms. His grey hair was tickling the tip of his nose, soft snores making his chest rise and fall rhythmically. 

"He isn't as intimidating when he's asleep." Yuuri's lip curved into a chuckle, moving silently to his room to dress up.

Victor's eyes derived an image of the blurry ceiling, light piercing the curtains along with the freshness of the autumn air. He waved his hand in irritated manner, incoherently mumbling something inaudible. A subtle smile of compassion and cozyness shattered the stoic expression he'd normally have. Free from the paralyzing, unquenchable urge to taste blood, free from the exposed flesh of vapid, dull-witted individuals pleading for him to collect their last breaths. 

He was definitely a saint. 

Wasn't it a little bit too mawkish, yet so intimate to dim the flame of a life candle? Wasn't is so wicked and dreadful to carry the burden of someone's ache in your heart? As if Victor carried a cross in his soul, a cross of his own belief that no one but himself is going to make him feel safe and completed. Gore is a river of the russian's secrets, black and scary, his world was a nightmare with no option of waking up. 

Disturbed, Victor flinched with a frown, and turned on the other side to press himself deeper into the salt sea colored pillows. He was sheltered from the burning rain of suffocating woe.

His head swims with fatigue, before he managed to sit and examine the surrounding objects, furniture and warmth. His thoughts slowed down when he got convinced that the environment was far from threatening.

"I'm so sorry! Did I wake you up?" Victor flinched at the hectic clack of Yuuri's steps, who was already dressed, adjusting his skates. After he comprehended the warmth and woke up following that tender, dripping with care voice. A breath of relief, he sat fully awake. 

Amusement rambled through the older's chest. 

"It's fine, you didn't." Victor confirmed with a pleased smile, pushing himself off the couch. After taking a while to brush his teeth with the extra hygeine necessities Yuuri provided, he put the official attire from last night, which consisted of a fancy dark grey vest and a merlot red tie. 

"Victorー" Yuuri began with trembling voice of indescribable worry. "Could I prepare you coffee, or tea?" 

"I will have to leave urgently, Yuuri," Victor warned, face muscles resting. Only the eerie coldness coming from his iris was visible on the pillar skin tone, his hair throwing a soft shade over his bewitching features. Uncanny aura of danger and unspoken angish. He was a total mystery for the deeply blushed male. "No need to worry about the conversations we had, I will make sure to continue them." He hinted with a wink. 

What if it was too much? Did he overshare last night? Gnawing on his bottom lip to blood, breathing ragged and irregular, Yuuri's uneasiness hit the roof. After this he hurried to take Victor to the front door, who was busy looking through the creamy smoothness of the dark chocolate eyes staring at him.

Yuuri's eyes were oddly wistful and exotic. Humble and bashful. Coaxing with forgiveness. 

"Yuuri," Victor began taking Yuuri's hand in his own fondly, a domineering smirk decorating his already mystifying face. "I had a lovely time here, I was honestly ill from the repetitiveness." He muttered. 

"It is important to pay attention to ourselves." Yuuri advices with wise look. "Other than that, you have already reached the best version of yourself." Words that slipped upon a hitched breath that echoes through the hall. 

Victor was immensely flattered, you don't hear such a compliment whilst reigning a criminal syndicate. 

"Be patient with everything you have to work on." Victor pointed at the kitchen table, covered with piles of reports, university tasks that the younger should focus on. 

He was already determined enough to productively get his work done, especially considering that he'd be in total, lovely solitude until Phichit is back. "I will try my best." 

Yuuri's cheeks deeply blushed when Victor took his thinner hand in his own, kissing the top of Yuuri's fingers. The softness of Victor's lips made contact with Yuuri's sensitive skin. It is a greeting in Russia to demonstrate affection, isn't it? Yuuri's little heart skipped a whole beat as his body froze, relaxing his hand in the older's warmer one.

Collosed fingers felt harsh, big hands holding his bony fingers tightly. The kiss spread across Yuuri l's knuckles, warming even the skate's blades. Victor hummed with approval, satisfied by the vulnerability showed. 

Yuuri was truly, strikingly beautiful and that was horrifying. 

"Then, Yuuri, I will definitely contact you for a real date next time." 

Yuuri once again trembled, heart pushing hot blood through his veins. Victor Nikiforov was indeed a gentleman in fine suit, and Yuuri was indeed clever enough to notice the repugnance and pain within. 

_

"What on the earth is happening here?" Yakov growled stepping inside the base that functioned as a warehouse at the same time. With a scowl he tried to find the source of the noise that leaded to Yurio who was fighting three men at once, aggravated expression of madness reddened his whole face as his eyes stabbed the older, livid with wrath. 

"Let me inside, he is fucking dead!" Yurio evokes at the climax of his outburst, furiously pushing everyone as he approached the room for torture. Yakov's cool stare fell on the floor as he approached them, grabbing Yurio's hand that made it's way to his knife and aggressive pulled it out. 

"Enough!" Yakov scolded, grabbing the young teenager, particularly throwing him on one of the stiff chairs with a loud thud. The other's forehead vein was throbbing, teeth gritting with despair.   
"Yura! What got you in this state? What is going on?" Yakov asked sternly, struggling to keep the hyped boy still. 

"Heー" Yurio began, taking sharp breaths through his damaged throat. "That bastard is hunting for our people!" 

"Mind explaining when you calm down?" Hoarse words of superiority sounded before Yakov allowed Yurio to take a mouthful of water, burning his throat as he gulped loudly. After a few prolonged hitched breaths, he relaxed on the stool. 

"Someone intended an attack on me and Otabek." 

"You and Otabek? Where is he?" 

"Hospitalized, obviously! Fucking use your brain old manー" Yurio was cut by the annoyed reaction of Yakov, who raised a hand in attempt to slap the restless teenager. Victor had always been a weak spot for Yakov, nevertheless, he treated Yurio with as much respect. That didn't count for the moments when they got violent towards themselves and others. 

"Don't you dare, Yakov." A so composed and stoic voice of husk and bold sounded when the prodigy emerged right behind them in all his glory, a weapon in his hand. 

Yurio's anger was a mad chaos of tears that rolled down with humiliation and tremors that made his shoulders quiver under the pressure of so many eyes on him. Victor hurried to place himself between the younger and Yakov, his eyes alarming danger glared at the older with disapproval. 

"Have you lost your mind?" Victor asked quietly with a loathsome grimace. "You cannot get physical with a kid, moreover your protege. Back off." Victor warned with murderous glower, so Yakov couldn't pass his girth. 

After they stayed still for a good minute, Victor turned around to face his younger relative, scolding him immediately with his demanding and controlling stare. 

"Yura, you are too inexperienced and emotional to lead. You had the nerve to pull a knife in the presence of a superior member. Even if you feel provoked, think twice before trying to get physicalー" 

"I'm not up to listening to your lecture, Nikiforov! One of our man could almost lose his life!" Victor lowered his gaze, nodding slightly as a sign for Yurio to continue. "Someone organized an attack toward Otabek." 

At this point, Victor could clearly understand the motive behind the younger's resentment and fury. Otabek was investigator and assistant in the mafia after being exiled and abandoned by his family. It was bizarre how he'd fit with Yurioーthey weren't nothing more than buddies sharing lonesome moments in silence and long forgotten memories. However, as time passed, they built a strong bond that naturally led to attachment. 

And Yura was too impulsive to structure plans. He was animalistic under the influence of hatred. Yet, Victor had no right to be judgemental. As a matter of fact, he used to be himself a delicate petal who would spend endless nights of crying and suffocating accepting the idea of being a killer. 

"Start from the very beginning." 

Yurio slammed his body on the stool almost tipping backwards. 

"The newbie Phichit turned out to be pretty helpful, he made a copy of thirty profiles of people that are involved with JJ," Yurio explained. "The most obvious one was currently at the city, so me and Otabek wasted to time to found him." 

"Why would you do such a thing on your own? Otabek is a trained hitman, do you think that he is obligated to look after you through the shooting?" Victor asked again with domineering tone, reaching to grasp the younger's jawーnot too harshly to injure him, but to force him to look into Victor's grim eyes. 

"We were attacked at broad daylight. We couldn't prophesy." Yurio said flinching to get out of Victor's hold. 

"Where is Otabek?" 

"Hospitalized. I don't know much besides concussion and a broken bone." Yurio closed his eyes for a moment depicting the image of Otabek's broken jaw, eyes searching for the bright light among Yuri's blond hair as the younger begged him to stay awake. "No one was going to rescue them, if some fuckers didn't interfere." 

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm livid, for fuck sake!" He snapped, gritting his teeth at the unflinching older. 

"Language!" Yakov spoke eventually, admiring the view to behold, Victor who he found half-dead as a kid, starved and desperately crying under the snow cover of a familiar late autumn evening, was now a proven leader. 

"Your display of immodesty isn't helping Otabek!" Victor said. "Who is at the torture room?" 

"One of the attackers, I dragged him to the car and drugged him. He has been at the dark for over half a day, food and water deprived." Victor nodded with pride. 

"Who taught you to be so violent, Yura?" 

"Ask yourself." Victor rolled his eyes, preparing his gloves with a few more people on his side, ready to meet the attacker of his younger sibling and one of his people. With infuriating smile and true concentration they prepared carefully for the torture process that was always making him sick for days after. 

"I'm going in, Yakov, since you were so thoughtful to travel from Moscow and leave Chris there, go check on Otabek's condition." Victor tapped on Yakov's bare shoulder. 

"Oi, Victor! I want to finish that man with my own hands!" Yurio protested as anticipated. 

"And what exactly encouraged you that I will let you in there? You are going to hurt someone without getting the information required or even question his innocence." 

"Bullshit!" 

"Victor is right, Yura. He is a professional, leave the man at his experience and mercy. You still aren't readyー" 

"Whatever!" With a scowl, Yurio busted out the building, pulling his hood on his head, a cigarette visible between his fingers. 

"Yakov, have a talk with him," Victor shots orders with bossy tone. "And if I see even a scratch on him or some of my other men, you will be responsible." Victor warned and took a steady breath before entering the infinite hall of shame.

"You must be the one who caused so many troubles, aren't you?" Victor's sneaky voice cracked the pitch deafening blackness. With a greedy and shrill laugher, the tied man attached to the chair reluctantly lifted his head. 

The blindfold blocked him from seeing the so cherished and reverential face of the most notorious man in Russiaー he should even be honored to die in the hands of the devil himself. 

"Nikiforov, right?" The pale figure was noticeably at the edge of consciousness. Outcasted and locked away, the man's mental state deteriorated. He was covered with sweat and dried blood, his hair painfully pulled out at places. The deprivation from basic needs exhausted the other to the point of passing out, yet he was aware that neither his fear, nor his entrails are going to save him. Victor hummed, examining the man who was tied, submissive and most astonishing, had the nerve amd power to mock the demon of his worst nightmares. 

"The name is Victor Nikiforov, ублюдок," Victor smirked. "You are aware of what I want from you. And you are aware what will happen if I'm not given that thing." He said circling the chair awfully slow. 

"I'm listening." He replied haughtily. 

"All the information about your boss. JJ. Everything that you know or have been told." Victor briefly insisted, waiting for a delightful respond with his arms crossed, shifting his weight from his left leg. He professed to the sadistic darkness living within him, and it answered, with no hesitation as usual. 

"I'm afraid you will have to play a little bit with me to get me talking." Perhaps it was the affect of the drug cocktail Yurio generously shoved in his blood, or he was a masochist, but Victor wouldn't refuse such a suave invitation. 

Victor's stone cold expression went blurry as a tight rope suffocated the man tied to he chair. The leather material made his neck crack, incoherent gag coming from his already crashed throat. 

Victor didn't complain and patiently waited until the other wasn't miserably wheezing in pain. With a little gesture of his glove covered hand, the man obediently let the victim breathe just for a moment before almost slashing his throat with the rope in agonizing choke again. 

The glum man took a sharp breath after the forth release, dizzy and inadequate, his lips trembled with regret. The pressure on him was almost unbearableー his wrists reddening from the ropes, light purple bruises forming within the thick layer of sweat. With infuriating smile, Victor waited a pleasing answer, but instead he gained a rapid shook of the other's head. 

It wasn't a pleasure to torture someone, likewise, Victor wasn't prone to sadistic thoughts. He had many different gruesome methods in mind and the majority succeed. The skin-crawling view allowed him to trail off, chest confusing to the point of vomiting pure blood. 

He ordered one of his people to tighten to robe again. With remorseful sigh, Victor watched in distress. The man was gurgling, his face turned ashen and cool. The dispair was obvious in his eyes, begging, pleading with his whole to be released or at least killed faster. The saddest thing you could witness. 

After grabbing some different gloves, struggling to adjust them, Victor filled a rusty bucket with water, wandering around the bloody basin in the room.   
When he came back, the other was realized, taking desperate gasps, diaphragm aching, head spinning. 

"We could do it the easy way," Victor assured, as if something reached his heart this morning. He was always picked to do this painful procedure and it was never guaranteed whether the other is innocent or not. "Say it already." 

"S-Should have," The man struggled, feeling the urge to throw up. "I should have killed your men at place. Both the blonde little whore and the other. They have no chanceー No chance against us." 

Victor was disappointed and urged to end this. 

"Fine." With that Victor ordered his men to wrap a piece of clothing around the other's head, as he poured cold water over head, dragging the other over the ground so he could lose orientation. 

It is not only a moment of panic where you can't recognise or see anything, a moment of complete delusion and senses restriction, but also a struggle for the man's already injured lungs. He writhes in pain that Victor could barely endure to watch. 

"I can guarantee you that my men are safe and sound, compared to you." Victor said with deep voice, mercilessly pouring the water over the wiggling, gagging figure. "We might need to revive him if he can't endure." Victor informs his men which made the the drowning man nod his head frantically in poor attempt to speak. 

"Changed your mind?" Victor questioned, pulling everything away and let the soaked man breathe for a moment, eyes blinking erratically. 

"JJ doesn't work alone." He screams through coughs, making Victor rub his chin with wonder. "Every person he has as a servant is a spy, and their main goal is to get you." 

So, after all it is all about revenge? The man had personal issues with Victor that became so insurmountable that he took such drastic steps? 

"I want names." Victor insisted. 

"Michelle." The man choked. "He has a right hand man named Michelle, he has a sister who keeps them informed. It's terrifying thereー" He trips over his words on the threshold of panic. 

"I see." Victor thinks. It would be a wise decision to let that man go and inform his boss that no one messes with Nikiforov, however, he already saw Victor's face. He had too much information. Victor mentally curses. 

The next step confuses beyond possible all of them. With a sign, Victor detached the uncomfortable, wet gloves from his colloused hands, putting his coat on and left the dark creepy place with a nonchalant smile. 

"Nikiforov, what should we do with him?" 

"Oh? Give him to Yurio, when he is free." Victor ordered and rushed out of the room. 

_

"Victor? What are you doing here?" Yurio snapped as usual, seeing the other in front of the hospital. Victor was carrying a a little bouquet of cream colored, yellow and orange daisies, wrapped beautifully in paper with a little card 'get well'. Victor, as composed and calm as usual, looked up at the younger. 

"Yura, I just realized on my way here, that you can't express your feelings," Victor said. "You came to visit Otabek, but you can't even face him without getting angry. See, you forgot to get him flowers." 

Yurio hated to admit his own faults, still he grabbed the bouquet, threw his cigarette and guided Victor to the little cafeteria inside. The opportunity Victor gave him to face the attacker relieved him. 

"Thanks," Yurio mumbled indifferently, taking a sip from the watery coffee in a plastic cup. "You look like shit." He added. 

"How polite, I can reassure you I feel even worse." Victor said, trying to keep his puffy, half-lidded eyes opened. "I got sick from the torturing process."

"I can imagine. You need to get home and take some days off, Yakov will understand." 

"I definitely will." 

"Should I get you coffee?" Yura suggested thoughtfully, whole putting his hair on a lose ponytail. The sight of crimson stinking blood and clots blocked Victor's mind, making him flinch with repugnance, the taste of the other's agony on the tip of his tongue, the sound of his screams burried in his memories. 

His skin feels feverish, legs weak underneath the burden on his shoulders, he almost swoons. Nothing is going to look appetizing in his eyes for at least a day. 

"I will skip." He refused with shaky voice, taking a deep breath. He was seriously on the edge to puke or break from the intense experience. The obnoxious cracking when one of his man delivered a punch to his face. How could empathy suddenly change someone learnt that death is an every day encounter? Yurio perfectly knew the face of Victor when he was about to break down, so he said nothing. 

"Yakov and I took care to follow the men from the list Phichit got us. We are monitoring them around the clock." He plays with the plastic spoon. 

"I'm glad Phichit found information. I should pay him soon." Victor said. 

"Actually, there is something a little bit disturbing that you should know," Yurio said with a deep frown. "Me and Phichit discussed it, and it is only a theory, but I think the whole information on the flash drive is fake." 

"Fake?" Victor gasped. 

"Who is fucking going to protect a simple information like identity so well? Considering that he didn't protect his spy, he would take that much time." 

Victor was so confused. 

Were they trying to distract him?

"Why would a servant wear this with himself if it's so secure? Why no one else had it?" Yurio questioned with doubt. At this point, they all had doubts, even in their surroundings. 

"Victor, I will head to Otabek's room, thank you for the gesture. He will immediately know it wasn't me who remembered, though." He pointed at the flowers, lying on the table. 

"It isn't big deal."

"Oh and Victor. I found something interesting about the Katsuki guy you asked me." Victor's eyes widened with even more puzzlement. 

"What specifically?" 

"This guy is an interesting case."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for enjoying my work :) Feel free to contact me on my Instagram. My username is dark_nikiforov
> 
> Here is a link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	6. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Molten-gold stars blinked from behind the puffy grey of the clouds, scattered like moondust over the hollow sky, thousand of flames for every broken soul and tonight they were twinkling only for them. The serenade of the darkness was only theirs."
> 
> Victor is having a nightmare and Yuuri takes an oath.

The sommelier generously filled Yuuri's glass with wine to the brim, giving a genuine smile before leaving the table.Victor's taste was exquisiteー from the fine dining place he chose for their date, to his graceful gestures, excellent and rich choice of beverages accompanied with soft music. Everyone served in Victor's interest, with countless compliments and discipline. 

And Yuuri was beyond uncomfortable looking at the unquenchable, thirsty quest for validation. They were probably his servants, but Victor paid no attention to the bustle around the restaurant. Instead he intensively starred at the younger the whole evening. 

Barely a week ago Victor slept on the couch in Yuuri's student ranted dwelling, talking about their pets and interests, and today they settled an expensive dinner. 

Victor was being so formal and sophisticated tonight, nothing compared to the man cuddled on the squeaky, secretly covered with anime stickers sofa. 

The sparkle of chemistry between them was obvious and they couldn't get enough of each other. They connected on a physical, emotional and even cellular level. Yuuri couldn't conceal his embarrassment by the older who stubbornly tried to feed him with his own hands, neck and cheeks flushed by the liquor as he would purr Yuuri's name gently. 

Like an melting glacier, Victor's little heart crumbled with affection at every enticing touch of Yuuri's fingertips, while the younger didn't mind even sitting under a bridge and counting stars with him. 

"Yuuri, you look lovely," Victor complimented him for the third time this evening, using his hands to cover his face. "I had to show my gratitude regarding your helpful tips while I was sick a few days ago, if it wasn't for them I would be stuck in bed with fever and congested breathing." 

Yuuri smiled gently. 

"I didn't do much," He waved his hand humbly. "Besides, how did you get my number?" 

"Oh, about this." 

A flashback reached Victor's recollection as he relaxed on the black chair, thinking about Yurio's words back then. 'He is an interesting case' tremors took over Victor's tired and sore body. 'There is zero information about him in the system. Besides the basic individual information and the occupation of his family, nothing else appeared. It is disturbing to me how someone can completely disappear from the world, like an innocent who committed a crime he got away with it, pretty baffling.'

With a blink, Victor came back to the present. He focused on the fiercely intelligent, grounding and soft gaze of the younger, who examined every movement of Victor's body with wide eyes. 

"It was accidentally slipped by Phichit!" He said in sweet lie, saving the extra information that he did an investigation. For one evening he could at least forget that he works for a criminal syndicate. 

"Victorー" The Japanese said while shifting nervously on his chair, reaching to place his hand over Victor's, absorbing the familiar warmth. "Such an expensive place wasn't necessary for us to spend a good time together." 

Victor's head swims as Yuuri's hand touches his, fingers shyly wrapping the Russian's palm in a firm hold, the glimmers of the candle on the table reflecting with little twinkling flames in Yuuri's glasses. 

His touch was too magnificent, too safe to be real. And maybe, if it eventually turns out to be a dreamー it would definitely be an utopic land of heaven and Yuuri was his angel savior. He smiles, gentler than the snowflakes knocking at the frosty glass, savoring the care. 

"That is what was in my mind too, Yuuri." Victor said, leaning to stare deeply into the other's blushing face, getting a better hold of Yuuri's inexperienced hand. "I actually booked a room for us in a hotel. If you'd like, shall we head there?" 

Yuuri nodded with enthusiasm. 

"I would love to take you to my apartment, but it is sadly a little bit... Preoccupied." And by 'preoccupied' Victor meant that Yurio and Popovich are restoring his weapon room. After another positive reaction of Yuuri's, Victor excused himself and went to call the waiter. 

_

Both males left the cozy restaurant, a few other little buildings turning their lights off. The chatting of everyone walking during nightfall was now muted under the inky blackness of the night voidー A captivating moon looming with it's silver blaze over the stars and constellation studded the night sky. Midnight was a secret weak spot of both Victor and Yuuri, who were prone to admire every midnight shadow, or how it held their words shielded in it's silent hush. 

The hollow blackness always reminds, that there shall be a place where your heart belongs. Even if you never got a place to call home, there is certain creature who stare at the same stars, under the same sky, and waits to be found by you. 

"Are you interested in me, Yuuri?" Victor's question made the other come back from his reverie.

"What do you mean Victor?" Yuuri asked, his hand reaching to touch Victor's burning skin. "Of course I'm interestedー have I said something that made you think otherwise?" 

"You seem distant no matter how much you talk. Either that or you are a great tease!" He cheered and quipped with a hearty smile. 

"Victor! Don't say such things." Victor had a thing about innocence. Yuuri never gave him any physical sign of attraction, perhaps he was very obedient, or seeking for something serious. Almost opaque. 

"Don't be so tensed," Victor reassured, as he stopped in the middle of the alley, eyes alluring something dangerous and primal. "Should I kiss you, Katsuki?" 

Kiss me?

Victor didn't wait for the other to respond, eagerly gripping Yuuri's petite waist in his steady hold, lifting his chin firmly. At this moment the city sounds went off, Victor's weight over Yuuri's body, lips connecting into a sweet, burning kiss. They surely rewrote the stars and allowed heaven to shake hands with hell. 

Yuuri's lips are plush and wet, warmer than his skin. Victor was pleasingly surprised with the flexibility of Yuuri's insecure tongue, that explored Victor's mouth impatiently. Yuuri's eyes froze, large and teared, lips trembling under the soft kiss of the older. 

None of them pulled awayー Yuuri proceed to wrap his hand's around Victor's neck and knitted scarf, relaxing his lips into the gleeful sweetness of Victor's experienced mouth, that relished the intimacy with so much gentleness and love. Victor was ravenous for the innocence, for the worrysome, burning peck over his famished desire, hands full of his desire, gripping as if to connect their bodies into one. 

Victor didn't mind experimenting, tilting his head to access better position. A whiff of honey coated affection mixed with the sharp scent of the vine radiated from Yuuri's silky hair. His skin was almost feverish, gripping Victor's body closer just to place mellow, desperate kisses over his heated lips. 

As they pulled away, Victor's eyes appeared to be a vague form of the moon itself, eager and longing eyes of coldness with starry shimmers of curiosity within. He giggled at the younger's puffed lips, licking his own to taste the imprinted deliciousness. 

"You are so beautiful, Yuuri." He muttered, enchanted by the presence of someone so pure and genuine. Clever and tender, someone who he could trust with his last breath. And that is what Yuuri didー he took his breath away, selfish and greedy, breathing into Victor's aching lungs. Following a trace of saliva from Yuuri's luscious lips to the edge of his earlobe, Victor rested his head at the crook of Yuuri's neck, palm sprawled over his pounding heart. 

Yuuri held Victor's slightly shaking body for a good minute, reaching to cup his cheeks in his hands. Victor instantly leaned to the warm touch with a hum, the stars moving untouched, bathing in moonlight amd glory. As if they were on the top of the world. 

Victor leaned to steal a kiss again. 

"I want you." Victor said with low tone, brushing Yuuri's hair backwards. 

"Victor, Iー" 

"It's okay if you still haven't trust me completely, I understand." Victor said, bringing the other a little bit closer, hand over Yuuri's. He hurried to shake his head violently, glasses almost falling from his face. 

"Victor, I have never been intimate with anyone." He stutters uncontrollably, professing his emotions with shame and indignity. 

Victor couldn't believe it. How may a boy with so much potential and endearment, to never get in the hands of a cunning partner? Victor's eyes got larger, eyelashes rapidly blinking, eyes shimmering with unspoken incredulity. So pristine to protect from others taking advantage of him. All his. 

Yuuri leaned back, pecking Victor's soft lips with a little whimpering sound that echoed around them. The kiss enthralled, got his heart thumping like crazy under his coat. He was such a gentle kisser, even his kissing was full of compassion and loyalty, fond and stern, warm and nurturing. 

Victor sucks desperately on the air before speaking. 

"I didn't even assume you have never had sex, " Victor admitted, walking besides the Japanese, making a right turn to the street of the hotel. Yuuri, was now focused on the night sounds and the imprinted scent of Victor over himー earthy scent with a note of something inky and bitter, a hint of leather. 

"Victor, I meant I have never kissed anyone." Yuuri admitted, cheeks blushing even harder. "I have actually, speaking the truth, but it was a silly kiss from when I was a kid."

"You have never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend?" Yuuri shook his head. "Yuuri, how is this possible?" Victor exclaimed, feeling some discomfort at that idea. He was in total disbelief and confusion, legs quivering underneath his body. 

"I wasn't very communicative, neither in school nor out of it," He said. "My only friend was my bigger sister, who at some point moved out too, then I would spent my spare time with Vicchan." 

"You should definitely let me meet with your family one day, it sounds like heaven to have a hot spring and katsudon every time you wish!" Victor joked. 

"What about your childhood?" Yuuri questioned. 

"Pretty dull and repetitive. As I've mentioned, I was raised by the ingenious Yakov. Most of my life I was either a private student or home schooled, I didn't develop many hobbies besides watching movies." He scratched the base of his neck. 

"That doesn't sound too badー at some point I was obsessed with manga!" Yuuri cheered. 

"Yuuri, what will we do at the hotel?" Victor curses mentally, however, he had no choice but to ask. Yuuri was the type to take things slowly, no matter how desperate and needy Victor could be and he prayed that he won't mess up and rut against him like a crazed teenager. 

"And you are asking!" Yuuri giggled. "We should watch a movie, after all you are the expert who can recommend some that are worth seeing." Victor smiled at the suggestion, preparing to enter the hotel. 

It wasn't as bad to be normal. 

_

Victor was the first to drift off to sleep after the movie. Such an irony that it turned out to be related to the mafia. Old, but indeed a good one. After a refreshing warm shower, the older was curled in Yuuri's lap, dressed in a bathrobe, just like Yuuri, his hair wet and disheveled, eyes filled with drowsiness. 

They got a charming little room, nothing spectacular. However, Yuuri was immediately drawn by the scenic viewー a lovely scenery to Saint Petersburg's most attractive cathedrals, the full moon accompanying the darkness. 

Yuuri put a hand on Victor's cheek and gained a cute response by the older who nuzzled his head into the touch. Yuuri has never seen someone confide him with their whole, to kiss with igniting passion that warms but never burns, 

Victor's vulnerability could be considered as a valuable treasure. Perhaps, he had a superpower to mend Yuuri's heart, or to strip his soul. 

The younger turned out the lights, moving Victor's body to the pillows as if it was about to shatter. After that, the Japanese closed his eyes, sleepiness taking over him, lulled by the cool bleeze coming from the half opened window. 

_

The last prolonged, relentlessly scary moments of desperation still haunted the Russian's recollection. The tender-aged boy found protection under a bridge in Saint Petersburg, hiding from those lurking who searched the whole city for him. 

The inert dull shade of the sky imprinted in his subconscious memories, snowflakes endlessly falling from the intimidating clouds, turning into hard ice overnight. 

Victor's skinny frame was huddled in an old coat, his beautiful face decorated with triggering, deep cuts and purple bruises. Accurately, he could draw that moment with of hopelessness and angst even today, the flashbacks were like a destructive poison. Terror takes over the younger's stiffened body as the dawn comes, the full moon hovering over the upsetting and hostile streets, malevolence in people's eyes as they didn't even offer what little help they could. 

It was a tragic how a young boy was dying to warm himself with something, even if it a scratch of love, a flame of a street lampー and for his utter surprise, his last option appeared, to decease all the agony and erase the repulsive memories, here to offer comfort for the lonely mourns. For the unspoken grief. 

Victor wanted to wake up from that nightmare and go home.

"Vitya, Vityaー" A voice said at distance, a luminescent butterfly. "Come home Vitya." He was summoned. It evokes and it is so far away yet. 

The pain was too real for him to endure, and then everything went black, leaving him to the harshness of the rotten world, bathing in a pool of blood that scares him to death. Violence. 

Victor never wished for it. 

_

Victor's eyes opened, a flush spreading across his neck, cheeks and ears. With a loud pant, he shivered within the thin layers of the bed sheets, cerulean blue eyes blown wide with distress and unbearable fear.

Yuuri lifted his body from his slumber, reaching for his glasses. The view was unpleasant and concerningー under the silver blaze of the moon, covered with sweat, vision blocked with repulse and woe, Victor was barely resisting the urge to shed all his tears. 

"Victor, did you have a nightmare?" Yuuri precariously asked, eyes large with worry, wistful. 

He rushed to gather the older in his arms, looking over his whole body for injuries or anything else that could cause him to be scared or pained. When he found none, he focused on the poor gasping male who hyperventilated in attempt to calm his paranoia, curled in Yuuri's hold. 

"No, Yuuri. It's nothing, you can go back to sleepー" Victor's voice cracked with nausea and dizziness, uneasy and afraid of Yuuri witnessing him at that vulnerable state. 

"Did you hurt yourself?" The other promptly sat fully awake on the white duvet. Yuuri managed to stay sober and take care of the traumatized russian. There was a chance that he bit his tongue in his sleep or got a calf cramp. Yuuri's hands searched Victor's body before he heard a delayed answer. 

"N-No." Victor responds quietly pulling away, still shivering, the illusion that his skin was still decorated with cuts and bruises made him curl his body with anguish, azure gaze colder than a winter hail.

"Victor, come here..." Yuuri gathered the trembling figure in his arms, this time in a warming embrace. Victor clinged to him for dear life, searching for the comforting warmth. 

Yuuri instructed Victor's head to his chest, letting the other lay on his bare skin, arms wrapping around Victor's body in attempt to calm him. Yuuri's mouth is hot while pressing kisses to Victor's forehead, breath sputters erratically as he whispered sweet nothings into Victor's ear. He scarcely felt how he formed a bundle of the blankets and wrapped Victor inside, kissing his nose, hands running over his back. 

"Victor, match your breathing and heartbeat with mine," Yuuri's voice was sweeter then before, coaxing and dripping on Victor's untamed heart. "Come on, breathe." 

He followed the steady rise and fall of Yuuri's chest, his ear right over Yuuri's heart. Yuuri had encountered even more dreadful panic moments, and he knew how much it can physically hurt. Victor's tremors and convulsing diaphragm didn't console the worried japanese.

"I've got you, Victor. Everything is okay, I'm right here." Yuuri admonished, whispering sweet nothings into Victor's ear while trying to warm the older's body. He was unbelievably cold, muscles stiff and tensed, nose irritated. 

A moment of silence followedー Victor was preoccupied with how gentle the pads of Yuuri's fingers feel while touching his bare back, how strong his heart is beating within Victor's blushed cheek. Lulled by the safety he felt, Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri's waist enveloped by the lovely moment. His eyes stared at the dimmed room, consumed by raven blackness.

"Is everything okay, Victor?" Yuuri questions again hesitantly, adjusting to the overflowing warmth, covering the other in gentle touches. He wasn't sure if he had control over the situation, and that scared him the most. Victor's breathing hasn't evened out, although the silence attempted to comfort him too. Victor's hugs were blissful, Yuuri could run his hands through the tingling silver locks of hair, gaining a pleased purr, the other just remained cuddled on Yuuri's chest.

"Yes. It isn't uncommon for me to have vivid dreams. It was just too muchー"

"You are right here with me and that is what matters. There is nothing to be afraid of." Yuuri reinforced, words vanished with the gust of the wind. So stern, ordering, grounding. His eyes glassy with anxiety and fear for the older, yet confident and secure. Rougher than his kissed, warmer than the north wind. 

"My dreams revolve around my childhood, it was a troublesome period of my life." Victor said with sorrowful and poignant tone. The evocative image of the pain he'd encountered, tasted and kissed, left his limbs paralyzed, lonely and sad. 

"I don't think that there is such a thing as flawless human," Yuuri began, still drawing soft circles over Victor's back. His voice rambles through his chest.  
"Count your blessings, Vitya."

Yuuri's mouth went dry, heart swelling at his little wise words. He pressed Victor closer into his arms in a protective hug. Engrossed by Yuuri's slowing heartbeat and the benign words of kindness Victor closed his eyes with tiredness. Yuuri's smile was cut by an yawn. 

"Sleep, Victor. Sleep in my arms, I won't leave you alone." 

Yuuri didn't mind supporting, it was in his nature. Already attached to the feeling of Victor's body searching for shelter, he connected his lips to Victor's forehead affectionately over the wet spot, falling asleep with the older lying on top of him, skin warm, heartbeats matching in the dead of the night. 

"There is nothing to worry about when you are with me." Were the last words that slipped upon Yuuri's lips, determined and somehow bold, unconditional and profound. He met the weight on his chest with a possessive smile. 

Molten-gold stars blinked from behind the puffy grey of the clouds, scattered like moondust over the hollow sky, thousand of flames for every broken soul and tonight they were twinkling only for them. The serenade of the darkness was only theirs. 

Yuuri's arms were unexpectedly long around Victor's toned torso, a hug that could ground and pacify the most venomous beast with grace. Victor's soft snores soon sounded through the night, tears wiped and replaced by the younger's love. He nuzzles, almost purring at the comfort bestowed. 

Yuuri took an oath that starry night, to mend Victor's broken heartー but he had to firstly forgive himself for missing so many years of Victor's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I respond to all comments under this work, alsoI reply to all messages on my Instagram. Always feel free to give me a feedback! I appreciate that there are people willing to read :)
> 
> My Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	7. Clues Of Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His glasses was thrown off his discolored face, dumbfounded by the horror that was taking placeー the window was shattered to pieces, pots of plants hit the snow outside with a muted whump, guns being reloaded in a thunderstorm of bullets and smoke, as they were caught in a crossfire.

The business meeting was drew out, almost three hours of speaking with no interruption got Victor's head spinning. The irk was crippling, his neck sore. With unconcealed exhaustion he sank into the leather seats, allowing the tension in his muscles to disappear. 

When it comes to business where you are prompted to deliver items that are restricted is more complex than anticipatedー The name Nikiforov was easy to recognise considering his popularity as Yakov's protege, and for the sake of his reputation, the face of the monster Nikiforov, the leader of the Bratva, stayed in the shadowy corners. Victor was cautious even in his own realm, so no one could get mindless and immodest enough to step a foot on his territory. 

"I don't think that this day will ever end." Victor muttered with exaggerated sigh.

"Don't lose your energy, yet." Said Popovich who appeared out of nowhere, his walking was fast-paced, shoes clicking on the marble floor, that resulted to Victor reaching for the weapon in his clothes. 

He felt sudden turmoil by the primal reaction, letting his hand rest over the pistol with a bellowing groan. 

"Don't walk behind me like that, you know how it effects me," Victor complained. "Plus, at the moment I'm too sensitive to noises."

"Prepare yourself for bad and good news then. I will disturb your little break with something that poppedー regarding the issue we had with JJ." The other Russian informed. 

"What do you classify as a good new, Popovich?" He questioned, silver eyebrows narrowed. 

"Speaking of which, the new is ambiguous. It might lead to positive results though," He shrugged his shoulders. "Yakov has a little host waiting for you. I'm not familiar with the details, but from what I overhead he is related to JJ's people." 

"I bet that no traitor, even the simplest one, would run to kiss the Bratva's feet just for the money." Victor retorted. 

"Go see them then." 

"Clients," Victor pointed at the closed door. "Or you may lead the meeting and convince them to sign the documents?" Victor's doe like eyes widened, his hand pressed to his mouth as the query came. Popovich couldn't deny, he wasn't in the position to. 

"Yes, Sir." He sarcastically responds. 

_

"What's with the appearance, Nikiforov? You got yourself smartly dressed for me?" He had a snarling laughter. 

Victor was already furrowing his eyebrows with disapproval, smoky hair throwing a shade over his glaring eyes.   
He was stabbing the other's soul with steer aversion, confronting him to deal his cards. 

The man's uncombed, frizzy caramel hair stinks, his beard neglected and overgrowing his jawline. The smell of gunpowder reaches the russian, infused with ink and something plastic. Searing his lungs with suspiciousness, eyes shimmering with his cracking composure. 

"Boss, shall weー"

"Let him speak." Victor orders at his men who were a way bigger than Victor, physically stronger and yet afraid to speak without his consent. It was delightful scene to witness and the man's smile soared at the dominance radiated. 

"Nikiforov, the information that was given to me was so exclusive that I could gain more than the Bratva has ever extorted!" Victor frowns at the statement, legs crossed under the table. Well maybe the presumption that this man is partly a masochist isn't completely wrong. 

"Be more specific. How are you related to Michele?" 

"Before a few years I was enrolled in journalism classes, by the time I graduated, Michele Crispino, who was a dear friend of mine, was in the business." 

Victor wasn't persuaded and in no way sure whether he is simply wasting his time or having a psychotic outburst. That better was worth his precious time, after all, he isn't the type to sit still. 

With his legs crossed high, eyes hunting for body language, his expression stilled again. 

"Michelle was in the business of sex industry. That rich brat, JJ who we call Leroy, turned him into a theft. The irony is, I was given the caseー the worst part as a journalist was that I had to serve Michele to get information from him. Their last year is focused on murdering the pakhan of the Bratva."

Victor gets slight goosebumps at the statement. It isn't unknown that many want him dead, but right here he had an acute issue with two men who aimed at him long agoー and one little journalist who happened to know them. Many would drink from his skull and celebrate the death of a legend that killed many for the sake of the syndicate. 

He had two of his men on guard, moreover he was himself capable of snapping a neck between his hands with a disturbing crack. No one can hurt you without your permission. 

"What would they tell you?" 

The man throws a pile of papers on the table, catching Victor's attention. With dread, he perceived that this is an article of him with some unproven but accurate assumptions regarding his business. With pictures attached, strikingly similar to the newspaper material he saw when Chris got abducted. 

"They ordered me to publish this," He admits. "Not only to grab your attention, but to make you give them what they want. Money and fame." Victor almost chuckled, already coming with a solution in his headー and that evil half-infuriating smile that makes his eyes so reserved, was a sign of contentment. 

"Why would you turn against Michele?" Victor inquires, resting his chin on his hand. He had the right questions taped inside his head, that logically rose from the answers. 

"He betrayed me, for fuck sake!" The other moves suddenly, obnoxiously yelling. "I will be that back-stabber if it means that he will be defeated. But everything has its prise, Nikiforov." 

Victor loses both his appetite and respect towards his rival. Money cannot build power and integrity, fake power can't recover the lack of dignity and respect. Sometimes the best answer to exasperation and anger is simply silence, to bite your tongue and hold your fists unfolded to your body. Don't show weakness, it's like a fresh drop of blood for bats. 

"What do you want? " Victor questioned. 

"I want you to personally let me murder Michele! The rest, we can decide later." The laugher Victor held was about to rip through his throat. What on the earth made that miserable man assume, that Victor will make business with him? Allegiance? Since Wlwhen is the prey controlling the hunter? 

"We have a deal," Victor exclaimed. The man enthusiastically handed Victor every device where the information was saved and then started speaking with no interruption. 

After taking some brief notes, Victor questioned. 

"In conclusion, all you gave me is one of the locations where JJ could be, pardon Leroy," he corrected himself "And an email address from which they sent you the information about me while you were in Saint Petersburg?" 

"That is right, I was sort of a spy." The idea of this scumbag following him and Yuuri at their date before two days, made him lose his calm expression for a moment. The horrendous fact that Yuuri could be harmed because of that was unacceptable. He shall never let that happen. 

"Thank you for the information. Does Michelle know about your visit here?" Victor knows it can be a game, maybe he is acting and trying to get to Victor. 

"No." 

Victor smirked. What a naive man. The unraveled his dearest without hesitation. 

"Keep him here until Yakov doesn't speak to him too." Victor informed. After that he went out of the little room. We all possess our own rival that thwarts our plansー in that case, the man, who Popovich informed Victor to be called Emil, got a surge of competitive energy, too focused on revenge. 

Victor pulled the wrinkled papers that he has clenched in his fists for a good minute, taking a better look at the information given. 

With relief, Victor stated that nothing endangered his new lover. Under no circumstances, should he allow them to know about Yuuri's existence. He is innocent. Memories from the hotel night came like flashbacks of mortification and flatter. Yuuri's warm chest and strong hands getting a hold of his whole, soothing all the tremors, fears and doubts, a kiss on his cheek before going home.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Yakov showed, followed by two of his men. Victor's eyes looked down demurely through his pale eyelashes, not showing a hint of emotion. 

"Yakov, that man said everything is knew, or at least I'm pretty sure he did," Victor pointed at the little leather notebook covered with cursive handwriting and the information he noted. "He is a splendid opportunity for us to reach the roots of the matter." 

"It's not promising that he gave you a location that casually. He could be a mercenary. " Yakov warned him. 

"Who do you think I'm?" Victor sarcastically said. 

"Shall we kill him?" 

"Even better, keep him as a hostage in case Michele decides to get him back. To be secure, take him to Moscow at the base with Chris. Act like he is helpfulー but don't kill him without my knowledge or consent." Yakov nodded in agreement. 

"What will you do now?" 

"I'm calling Phichit, I have an email address for him to follow." Victor said. 

"Don't get in trouble." 

"No one can hurt me without my permission." 

_

There coldness of Saint Petersburg's malevolence stuck to Yuuri's skin. The night air was heavier and brought a remorseless storm of graceful and elegant, yet chilling snowflakes. The wintry air hurled through the silence, causing another gust of coldness to numb the Japanese's face, hungrily devouring, avidly licking the last bits of warmth left. Black clouds sprawl across the dark abyss, making the whole atmosphere similar to a horror movie with no plotー just a sequence of jumpscares and brutality. 

Yuuri still couldn't get Victor out of his thoughtsー which lead to him sending messages. They were always short and heart-touching, but nothing too phylosophical, that part he left for when they were together. 

Secretly, Yuuri would touch his lips with undisguised pleasure and vividly imagine Victor's hovering over him, licking his bottom lip with delight while Yuuri deepens the kiss. It was tasty, it was sinful and so sweetー the whooshing wind blew with a scolding gust of the forthcoming winter, interrupting the younger's dreams. 

Yuuri's heart still flutters as he flushed under the knitted scarf. 

He absently noticed that he had already entered his area, the windows looked like crystal ice surrounded by frost, that almost engulfed his heart with snow. Crows flying between the smoke of the chimneys with a song that sounded like an alarm, the night darkening and freezing every inch of his bristled skin. 

Winters here were an example of a magnificent view, even if the only source of warmth is the nebulous moonlight. A reminiscent reminder of the passing time. The tempest was approaching with unforgiving dash, the ground white. 

Then a familiar face caught his attention. In normal circumstances, he wouldn't have noticed the lost man who was wondering where to go, notwithstanding, in the middle of an approaching storm, the frightened boy couldn't stay unseen. 

"Excuse me, do you know howー" the next person just didn't pay attention to him. "Oi, I'm fucking speaking to you!" He snapped, left alone on the street, eyes filled with confusion. 

Yuuri's breath was visible under the streetlight, the air was moist and chilling. He exhaled sharply as he recognized the platinum blond hair that was landing gracefully on the boy's shoulders, his eyes tearing and most likely hurting from the low temperatures. Black inked arms with reddening skin visible from the thin camouflaged coat. 

Yurio? 

Yuuri was quick to remember facesー especially if it was Victor's little brother.   
The last memory he had of him was vague, due to the fact that it was at 'House of Envy', overcrowded enough to perplex you. 

Everyone and everything around Victor was baffling enough, the appearance of his servants and relatives, the secretive Feltsman who was his father figure, the single fact that a teenager was running a night club. 

But he was sure that the wandering boy was Victor's brother who was probably lost. No doubt, Yuuri's area was quite large. He decided to approached him, walking down the murky street. 

"Good evening, Yurio, I'mー"

"Who the fuck are you?" As he retorted, the face immediately popped in his head.

"My name is Yuuri Katsuki, I'm close to Victor!" The boy cheered, bestowing the younger with an insecure smile. 

"Ah, thatー my brother spoke about you." 

"He did?!" Yuuri's fogged glasses were hanging on the edge of his nose, his hand reaching to hide his cheerful chuckle, high in spirit. With unconcealed excitement he giggled. 

"Yeah, I remember you well. You were with that kid Phichit at 'House of Envy', weren't you?" He looked a way different in real, shorter than assumed, eyes innocent and large behind his blue frame of his glasses. What relation could he hold with the mafia? 

"That is right," He nodded. "You seem lost?" 

"No shit, Sherlock." Yurio rolled his eyes, pressing his hands deeper to his pockets close to the pistol he carried, as the paralyzing bleeze hit them again. He leaned to the cold, shadowy wall. 

"I live in that area, so I can call Victor and instruct him to get you." Yuuri offered. 

"I can find my way alone!" Yurio exclaimed, voice echoing with the nightfall wind. He felt a fist around his throat at the idea of his ego being defeated, pale snowflakes freezing his pierced ears, down his exposed almost blistered hands and up to the cross tattoo around his biceps. 

With worrisome gaze, Yuuri inspected the stubborn teenager, approaching him like he would an adult. Sometimes, people get extremely obstinate, like a mule, refusing to fulfill their own needs just to prove others wrong. However, Katsuki could be a greater stubborn if needed. 

"Please, Victor would be extremely concerned that you are here alone and honestly, I would blame myself if I let you stay outdoors. Come with me to my place, there we will call Victor." 

"He's busy." Yurio roared with gritted teeth stubbornly. 

"Even for his little brother?" Yuuri's beaming smile was too hard to resist and the teenager eventually agreed. 

"Fine, just don't do anything gross when Victor comes." 

Yuuri laughs. 

_

Yurio was no longer at risk of the howling wind, snuggled in the middle of the sofa at Yuuri's place. Phichit was working on his current task without saying a word, hissing and typing on the keyboard hectically. 

After a moment, Yuuri came back into the room wearing his homely clothesー a navy blue sweater with a pair of slippers, carrying steamy bowls of food. He reminded himself to scold Yurio later for not accepting his brother's help, but for now his utmost purpose was to make sure Yurio isn't starving or freezing to bones. 

"Phichit, you need to make a pause, I'm surprised your eyes still haven't fell off their orbs." Yuuri joked, placing the bowl on the desk.

He had a rather dark humour. 

"Oi, I haven't asked for you to be my babysitter! Call Victor immediately and let that torture end, piggy." Yurio bestowed him with scowl, his skinny frame sank into the couch. 

Yuuri will never acknowledge that such a comment was purely to mock him, still he couldn't avow how destructive the affect wasー like salt pressed to a freshly opened scar. He learnt, nevertheless, that getting a laughter out of every insult can save your day. 

"I should indeed reduce the butter crackers!" He giggled, placing the bow in front of Yurio. "I won't return you to Victor until you aren't safe and sound." 

"You are a inane idiot." Yurio stated, avoiding further confrontation as he stuffed his mouth with food. 

"Victor said you are the one managing 'Hause of Envy', isn't that rather dangerous?" Yuuri couldn't ignore the age of the younger, who didn't seem to have proper qualities to run a business. 

"Said the man who took a lost boy from the street in his apartment." The innocence of Yurio's youthful face was a real weaponー underneath it's beauty he hid a skilled assassin and torturer. 

"Victor should spoil his brother a little bit more." Yuuri said reaching for his phone before realizing he left it in his coat. 

Yurio laughed loudly, tears picking at the corners of his eyes. 

"Victor? That man thinks only about himself." Yurio laughed. "I'm surprised that someone as naive is seeing someone as arrogant and narcissistic like him." 

The thought of him being special for Victor was a balm for Yuuri's soul. 

"Hey," Yurio began seeing the skates at the corner of the room. "Do you skate?" 

Yuuri nodded. He already won the younger's attentionー Despite his tiredness he was energetic and tender-hearted, no one, including Victor, could engage a conversation with the rebellious teenager and entertain him. Yuuri was an exception, and it was just now Yurio realized what Victor saw in him. Empathetic and intelligent, somehow absent, bleary from the conditions outside. 

He mastered his communication skills within a year, thriving to not only become a better phychologist but better human for those who he could reach. 

Just when Yuuri was about to get up and reach for his phone, the evening got interrupted by a loud shot, that shattered the glass of the window.

No one had time to reactー the single bullet was just a warning before the a storm of fired bullets flew towards the room. Yurio recovered from the shock in seconds, pulling Yuuri who was staring blankly with dismay and terror at the window down, as if death knocked on his door without warning. 

"Get down, baka!" He slurred, as Yuuri toppled to the floor with Yurio being his vest for this occasion. His glasses was thrown off his discolored face, dumbfounded by the horror that was taking placeー the window was shattered to pieces, pots of plants hit the snow outside with a muted whump, guns being reloaded in a thunderstorm of bullets and smoke, as they were caught in a crossfire. 

"Yurio, what is going on?!" Yuuri stammered, hands grasping the teenager's shoulders as he wished to answer his questions. The chocolate warmth of his blown wide eyes that reflected the city lights was replaced by something tragicー a gaze that devoured his guilt and incinerated his bones to dust. The younger took a glimpse of Phichit who was kneeling behind his deskー the flash drive in his computer.

The flash drive. They were followed with a spyware.

And now caught in a gruesome war.

They were in a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No one can hurt me without my permission." Can't they, Victor? :) 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I respond to all comments and messages on my Instagram so positive feedback and constructive criticism are always much appreciated! 
> 
> My Instagram username is dark_nikiforov 
> 
> Here is a link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	8. Like I'm saying goodbye

Victor was still in his car, checking the time on every few seconds. His azure-hued eyes opened reluctantly at the sound of his phone that halted his lonely monologue with the rising moonー the Russian had no clue that this may be one of the most horrifying conversations he ever had.

"Yuuri! How are youー"

"Victor, come at Yuuri's apartment immediately!" Victor blinked at the raucous voice, his face losing its composure and poise. 

"Yura? What are you doing with Yuuri?" Was the most logical and simple query. 

"Idiot! Come here quicklyー" The conversation was interrupted by the crack of another gunshot that pierced the couch just next to Yurio, who curced enraged in Russian, pulling his own gun out of his clothes. The weapon weighted more than Yurio's fingers could adapt to, but it gave him confidence to shoot through the attack of bullets and pray that maybe his practice won't let him down. The sudden appearance of the pistol dismayed Yuuri's eyes, spoilt his fear to grow. 

Victor's eyes widened as he released a weak gasp, his blood ran cold. A single click of a gun was louder than his heartbeat, he couldn't mistake the demonic little sound. 

"Yura, where is Yuuri?!" Victor's screams were now fierce and demanding, his heart rapidly beating in his mouth, all hairs of his body stood to their ends when the danger approached. 

"Get here quicklyー"

Victor wasted no time ferociously driving to Yuuri's apartment with the highest speed possible. His forehead was dotted with sweat, arms clammy in his leather gloves, hissing cynically under his breath. His blood boils with anger, under the spell of outrage, he was blind and deaf for everything else, but Yuuri's voice in his head. How could his love, the singular and only truthful emotion he has ever felt, cost Yuuri's safety? 

Everything went in front of his eyes like a flashback before the final verdictー the gentle innocence behind his lover's laughter, the sweetness of the lips that drank selfishly all of the blood Victor had spilled. So greedy and cruel, Yuuri drank with avid thirst the last licks of Victor's sins. If it wasn't for the rage that stormed across his panicked expression, Victor would be guilty upon believable. 

His vision was now blurry, chest convulsing with abhorrence and anxiety. Victor Nikiforov was livid, his carnal whim and crave for revenge made his body quiver more. A loathsome grimace of sadistic desire darkened his face. At such moment, all he could do was to prayー his last desperate hope that he will arrive on time and kiss the person who he loved. That Yuuri will be there to be kissed and embraced. 

He had to protect what was his.

_

"Shit, how didn't they run out of bullets already?" Yurio cursed, loading his gun again, sweat straining his black clothes, jaw clenching angrily. The bloodshed was fullー the teenager managed to eliminate one of the man aiming at them, but the other continued to pull the trigger with no hesitation from the opposite balcon. It wasn't hard to identify those men as professional snipers, whose energy to shoot more grew with every curse that slipped out of Yurio's mouth. The air was shrouded with smoke, glasses embellishing the floor. 

"The flash drive," Yuuri mumbled in Japanese, not coherent enough for Yurio to understand. But he knew, that his delusional assumption about Victor's life was correctー and the most analogical step for someone to know their location was to install a spyware on the flash drive, and put a ton of useless viruses for distraction. 

"Oi, katsudon!" Yurio made up a quick nickname based on the meal he ate earlier and the rush of adrenaline.  
"Get down and stop fucking moving!" With that being said, another bullet flew dangerously close to Yurio's hair, centimeters away from Yuuri's panicked face. A strand of blond hair falls on the carpet, gunpowder spreading with the smoke. 

Yuuri almost swoons, legs limping from the paralyzed muscles within. He is lightheaded, searching for his glasses all over the floor before curling himself into the corner and covering his eyes with his palms to reduce the spotting from dizziness. It's petrifying, he thinks, as every exploding bullet is a skipped beat of his arrhythmic heart. 

Yuuri would clench his chest and weep, but he was to surprised by seeing a fifteen-years-old boy shooting shamelessly. The noise was too much. 

"Show yourself, сукин сын!" Yurio finished his clip, one last click of disappointment sounded as he crawled carefully to Yuuri. If he could, he would shove an extra weapon in Yuuri's hands and instruct him to protect himself, however, he doubted the younger had a shred of common sense about weapons. 

"We shall call the police!" Yuuri jumped on his shivering legs. 

"Get down, baka!" Yurio reverted him back down by the sweater, making him land with a loud thump. Phichit was heavily breathing behind his desk, making a sign for them to keep quiet. Yuuri felt betrayed, that he was foolish enough not to reveal the facade of lies that even his roommate was familiar with. 

After a moment, the noise startlingly reduced after one particular revolver was fired, outstanding and remarkable as always, it caused Yurio's face to lit with hope and left Yuuri flabbergasted. 

Yurio lifted his body and looked out of the windowーone of the man has fallen into the frozen swamp, his neck pieced with a repulsing, large wound right over his carotid artery. 

The man choked in agony before the creek of blood drained the life out of him, soaking his clothes and spreading into the cracked ice.

The last man received a precise shot into his kneecaps, as a little experiment. He falls backwards, before a third one fires between his ribs directly into his heart. 

The only person who could aim precisely under the affect of rage, in the middle of a hail storm at night was Victor, and they were saved for now. Relief tasted good, it was a fresh breath that allowed Yurio's sweaty, frantic body to slump next to Yuuri's, a small of victory on his soot and sweat covered face. 

The front door opened with a bang, revealing Victor with a pistol in his right hand, blood scattered over his pale cheeks. Apparently, men were waiting in front of the building too. Without an invitation, Victor intruded their space with his sinister presence killing them on spot.

Losing control like dropping a sparkler over a river of gasoline, and Victor was grateful that no one saw that bloodthirst in his expression. 

The first thing he could see was Yuuriー his hands covering his ears, hectic breaths escaping from his parted, pale lips. Victor's rage was immediately replaced with worry when he saw the curled figure amidst the shattered glasses. 

The man Yuuri was madly enamored with, the man he held through his nightmare and took an oath to stay by his side was standing in front of him like an epitome of strength, with merlot fluid spread across his suit, and he was still as weak as before, so vulnerable even if he had the capacity to give fatal justice. 

"Oi, old man, you finally decided to show up!" Yurio broke the prolonged silence. 

Victor rushed to kneel by Yuuri's paralyzed figure, getting him out of his current curled position. His heart seared with pain when Yuuri's eyes filled with tears, tremors growing as he felt the the steady hold of someone's arms around him. 

"Are you hurt, Yuuri? Can you walk?" 

"No, Victor, please don'tー" Yuuri flinched backwards, but eventually the older got a better look over Yuuri's body and eyes filled with toxic panic and turmoil. 

"Shh," Victor shushed the Japanese, the hand that held his gun wrapped around Yuuri's shaking figure head, buried into the black locks of hair to console himself with the familiar warmth. He couldn't forgive himself for the state his loved one was in. "Everything is over, I'm right here дорогой. Let's get somewhere safe." 

The hug he gave was protective and desperate. Like a vow. 

"You two can get all gross when we go somewhere secureー the police will be here soon. Let's get out of here! " Yurio yelled, alarming everyone to leave the apartment abruptly. 

_

Fear gripped Victor's heart when his beloved one didn't respond. Yuuri was sitting in Victor's bed, the Russian took him to his apartment as soon as they left the scene, and now the younger was giving his best to solace his racing thoughts, grasping a bottle of iced water. Victor had enough time to drop Yurio by Yakov's residence beforehand. 

"You need to look at me," Victor reassured, holding the Japanese's hand in his own. "I won't let anyone to hurt you, моя любовь." Victor said with a warning. 

"Victorー"

"You are in safe hands, солнышко. I've got you." Victor's hands found Yuuri's, holding them with familiar tenderness and warmth that imprinted it's comfort instantly over their skin. 

Yuuri didn't hesitateー wrapping his arms back around Victor's torso, clenching his nails into the other's back, seeking reinforcement in Victor's arms.

Victor sensed the worrisome thumping of Yuuri's heart that refused to slow. The younger felt a tear drop on Victor's clothes, causing him to flinch and break the hug, as he pressed frantic kisses over the reachable places like Yuuri's hair, reddened nose and eyelids. 

"There, you can let it out and cryー" He was pushed away by Yuuri, whose expression remained bleak, impassive. Black spots started to stud his vision as he cried a little bit more, attempting to stop jolting with every sob. Victor wasn't educated enough to know how to help someone in distress, but from his recollection, his mother would rock him as she sang a lullaby every evening when he couldn't sleep. That is what he did now, fingers tracing the black hair, glasses wet with tears. 

Guilt immediately stomp on Victor's chest as the younger wailed harder, quickly inspecting the younger, blue eyes freezing with worry. 

"Yuuri, are you hurt somewhere?" Victor asked in a last plea. "What is in your mind, Yuuri?" 

"Noー Victor, you kept such a thing away from me. You should have told me on time!" Victor eyes widens at the heartbroken voice, reaching to hold the other male close. The only little comfort he could offer. It was time for the masquerade to reveal it's real faces. 

"Don't scare me like this, Yuuri." Victor said with a sigh. He had some time to give a reason and full explanation about his position in the Mafia. Yuuri's reaction took him aback, because he didn't expect him to know. Was he that obvious? 

"Now, start from the beginning, Victor." 

_

Victor was barely able to carry his own bag of books from schoolー he was one of the most popular kids with his excellent school grades, charisma and strong personality. Everyone adored him, he was smart, well-mannered and outstanding with his extraordinary hair shade. 

A prince who resembled a graceful swan. 

His family was quite simple, he had a loving mother who dedicated her time into her cherished son, same goes for his fatherー he owned a humble shop for antiques in Saint Petersburg. Victor was learnt to be self-advocate and social from little, his parents expected him to become a well-educated man and shine with happiness like he deserved. 

The day when Victor turned homeless, was a similar chilly night in the middle of December, where he would cheerfully come back from school. The sight in front of him stayed permanent in his subconscious as he opened the doorー his mother was on the floor, lying in a pool of her own crimson blood, face pale and lifeless. 

At this moment, Victor couldn't cry or even scream, the idea of his mother being dead haunted him until today. He won't ever hear the soothing Russian lullaby, he won't ever hold her hand, he won't ever feel the unconditional love she had for him, there was nothing left but a limp body with no soul. 

Even at present, Victor would pull a little photo of his mother he carriedー admire the resemblance in their eye color, or even peck it and pray that perhaps she is his angel that soothes her little boy to sleep every evening. That she is finally free from the burden she secretly held. He cut ties with other dear people, like his friends. 

The most terrifying and disturbing part is, that he wasn't convinced whether his mother had an accident or she was brutally murdered. To his recollection, it was his father crying over her body with a knife set beside him. He couldn't tell whether he injured herー all he did was to sprint as fast as he could before his lungs collapsed and his legs went numb. 

Victor was like a stray animal for the next couple of days, the beautiful prince was an underweight kid who sheltered it's debilitated and frail body under one of the most captivating bridges in his city. That was his first encounter with the formidable society, colder than his hypothermic skin. It was insufferable. 

He warmed himself with the memory of his mother telling his a storyー about a match girl in such cold winter. And he dreamt, that he'd find a scratch to save his heart. 

He couldn't find the way back home, moreover he had zero intentions to return and become the next victim. He left naught behind, nothing that could help the authorities find him after they broke into his mother's apartment to find her decomposed body a few days later. Victor's ribs could be counted easily, his skin burning from the coldness. One night, when Victor couldn't see the fairy light of the street lamps, when he could hear people talking and when the stars didn't alignー he was found by Yakov, who mumbled something to the exhausted starved figure and took care of him until he wasn't a man. 

"Vitya, you are going to be a much needed asset for me." 

_

"Vitya... My little Vitya..." Yuuri comforted meekly at the abominable story, dumbfounded to find the right words. He pressed the older in a bone crashing hug and rocked him while tightening his grip and running his hands through his hair. 

Victor still held the scruffy old picture of his mother in his left hand, the only hazy memory of her existence. She left naught behind, and now Victor could no longer restrict his tears. 

Yuuri let him mourn, his own tears landing on Victor's trembling hands. The grief was dangerous, the sobs inescapable. The younger couldn't bear to imagine his caring, sweet Vitenka to be brutally tortured, deprived from love and left to the mercy of the coldness. 

"You can complete the fragments nowー I was raised by Yakov with Yura and taught how to be assassin. Later on, I took Yakov's place." Victor professed, wrapping his left arm around Yuuri's waist to cuddle him. 

"Vitya," Yuuri mumbled framing his face, his lover purring at the pet name, "You are here with me and that is what matters, nothing else. I will stay right here, as long as you need." 

Victor took Yuuri's hand, placing another peck on his knuckles, and let it rest flat against his chest. 

"Only a fool would refuse." At this, Yuuri nodded happily and reached to lock his arms around the older's neck again. 

They have built a nest of blankets and pillows around, enjoying each other's warmth and protection. 

Victor's milky skin felt smooth under the pads of Yuuri's fingers, his voice mellow and defenseless. His eyes, bathed in faith light, barely holding his tears, were alluring, giving an icy color to his pain under the cool-hued moonlight. Yuuri brushed Victor's hair behind his reddening ear, stroking his cheek affectionately, while tracing his fingers over Victor's plush lips. Who would hurt such a masterpiece? Who had the heart to malnourish and agonize someone as frail, as brittle. 

Yuuri relished the ticklish reaction of the older when he kissed the thin spot of his hair, sequin-silver and soft. 

"I thought something happened to you today." Victor admitted. The worry was evident. 

"Everything is okay, I'm here Vitya." 

"Yuuri, I wish you would never leave." At this statement, Yuuri's eyes tightened shut, a salty tear rolling down his nose as he softly sniffed. Victor's story was the type to make you ill inside. The older's demons were knocking on the frosty windows, threatening to come inside and Yuuri couldn't open. Not yet, not ever. 

"It's okay, Victor. There is nothing that can harm you here, it's okay." Yuuri mumbled one last time before the fragrance of Victor's skin imprinted on the sheets helped him fall asleep. "I promise I won't leave." 

And he was secure in his words, as the older man clinged to him for dear life, reassuring himself with the steady heartbeat under his cheek. 

"I won't allow you to, anyway," Victor grinned against Yuuri's chest. "Thank for being brave for both of us today." 

"My Vitya." 

None of them could mentally handle Yuuri's perspective and the vile event that outrageously changed the Japanese's life right now. All the mattered was Victor's vulnerable snores, face nuzzling into Yuuri's neck. He locked his arms in a possessive, yet gentle grip around the younger's waist, kissing the delicate skin of his neck. 

What if Victor could never imagine, was that Yuuri was the one who almost caused the death of certain someone. 

He wasn't guiltless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for 600 reads! It's extremely heart-warming to know that there are people who recognise my work and take from their time to read! It means more than I can convey, and it's always a pleasure to write for people who appreciate it. :) Have a lovely day/ night! 
> 
> Do you have a favorite author? I have a little collection of Cody McFadyen's books, but I got a pretty good book by Stephen King today. There is some old literature that I enjoy too. 
> 
> I respond to all comments here or messages on my Instagram! :) 
> 
> My Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	9. Letter from hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain erupted in Victor's chest as he opened it. His heart was visibly pounding, vision blurry with dizziness and panic. He expected everything, from a threat to a confession, but not that. That was disruptive and a way too personal, the game became too wicked, too cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness again! Mild warning for mentioning blood, read at your own risk! Now, without further due, let's get i to the chapter. Enjoy!

"He is pretty oriented for a pig," Yurio stated, a plastic spoon hanging from his parted lips. 

"What is with that language? Have you always been that impertinent?" Otabek scoffed with a low chuckle, switching to adjust his position in the uncomfortable hospital bed. His look wasn't indicating much progressーin desperate need of an undercut, his calloused fingers and wrinkled skin stretching from the daily rest. Yura's restlessness had been antidote and Otabek's lucky charm in the past few days. 

"Ask Yakov," The honey blond teased and crossed his legs, leaning on the wall whilst staying on the same hard mattress as Otabek. "When will you be out?" He drawled his words reluctantly.

"Considering that i'm on the verge of overdosing with painkillers, probably not soon." He jokingly breathed, a different spasm of discomfort sharply hitting his abdominal. 

"What a shame, the war is imminent and you will miss the return of madness," Yurio smirked as he put the spoon away from his mouth, grabbing the cup of watery, lacking flavour coffee, smearing the bitter sugar from his bottom lip. "I will keep you a company here then." 

"You found something new regarding JJ?" Otabek cocked at eyebrow at the younger Russian, when someone else rushed into the hospital room.

"We surely did, " Victor answered just to wreck the prolonged silence, breathing in the obnoxious scent of medicine. "We have an address that Emil gave us. Maybe Leroy finally got the goods to conquer me." 

Victor had a masterful talent of having the whole room wrapped around his finger. His blitheness and mirth could shift their attention from the hospital scent, besides he thought that Otabek reeked of loneliness amidst the bleakness of that room. Too bear and monotonous, even simpler than the set of white sheets hanging next to the wardrobe, about to be changed by nurses. His energy was fully recharged after waking up in Yuuri's lax, gentle embrace and the smell of his herbal toothpaste over his heated lips. 

"Dam' Nikiforov! Could you get any more arrogant? I thought you were with your precious boyfriend?" Yurio taunts, but recoiled with him immediately at the sight of Victor's deadly glare. 

"Thus far, I have indeed! But I couldn't express my gratitude to you for taking care of him, it costed you a full magazine of bullets!" Victor cheered. "Now, mind explaining what you've been doing at Yuuri's apartment?" 

"Oh, you payed a visit to the poor Japanese, what a thoughtful gesture!" Otabek pulled Yurio's chain. 

"No fucking way! I lost my direction around his area, the pig found me in the storm and ingenuously took me to his apartment. He was about to call you when the bullets broke the window."

"Yuuri was standing in the middle of the room when it happened?" Victor's orbs indicated immediate shock, pupils dilated with worry at the image of something that couldn't be mended occurring. He couldn't let it slip, like the dripping uneasiness from his ragged, swallow breathing. 

"I pulled him to the ground," Yurio scoffed, knitting his eyebrows, allowing the older to calm the manic thump in his chest. "Oh, he also said something intriguing in the middle of the gunshot scene." 

"What specifically?" 

"The flash drive you took from that man spying around 'House of Envy', Yuuri suggested that there was a spyware installed. That is how they knew our location." 

"That is convincing," Otabek said. "Considering the amount of viruses, they probably were a distraction from the actual purpose of itーto follow the device and find where Nikiforov is." 

"Otabek is right, but I doubt the little friend of Yuuri's will deal with it." 

"Phichit you mean?" Victor asked, rubbing his chin and analyzing, every possible outcome, even the worst scenarios. With his legs crossed, his hair disheveled in front of his apathetic face. He was competent enough to organize the death of everyone who touched his property, why was it complicated this time? "That is right." 

"Eh?" Both Yurio and Otabek turned their heads to Victor who looked rather pleased. Droplets of approaching, gentle rain were knocking on the frosty windows, offering a great distraction for everyone's pain. Almost like a rain of bullets that drowns a battlefield; and Victor could courteously smile at the calamity destiny granted. 

"From the very beginning they give clues on how to find who they are, covering the important information." 

"What do you know about them anyway, besides the names Michele and Leroy?" The young hitman questioned from the hospital bed. 

"Nothing," The russian said with victory. What even got in his mind? "They've got something personal against me, and since I haven't heard of both of them." He referred to JJ and Michele. "They are most likely involved with someone from my syndicate, or their relatives."

"You think it's as simple?" Yurio furrowed his eyebrows, looking out of the window just to catch the sunlight melting the thinner snow. The impending rain will cover everything in a picturesque icy swamp. 

"Not simpler than them." Victor pulled the lapels of his coat, watching the liquid from the IV drip bar flow gradually to the needle attached to Otabek's vein. 

"And, what exactly are we doing with the location given?" Yurio questioned. 

"What I will do is to take Chris thereー he still works for me and in addition I will keep him as hostage if JJ is related to him. What you will do is to look after Yuuri while I'm away." 

"You expect me to look after that pig again? Абсурдность!" Yurio busted, almost throwing his emptied cup of coffee over Victor's neat suit. 

"I'll pay you well." Victor winked. 

"Ughー Victor, you know that I need to peel the skin off this man's muscles on my own! He put Beka at this condition, he almost killed me last evening and costed me my favorite outfit!" He switched to English for Otabek's sake, nose scrunched in a typical, irked matter. 

"I didn't know the russian tiger had claws!" Otabek quipped, whistling. "I'm likewise honored that you care about my well-being." 

Yurio facepalmed with a slap, shaking his head violently. Then he looked at Victor's delighted expression again, murmuring in agreement. 

"Fine! But you owe me a three piece suit for the accident yesterday!" 

_

Yuuri woke up by the relentless vibrations of his phone. Struggling, he found his glasses and picked up without even paying attention to the number. 

"Yesー?" 

"Yuuri!" Yuuri could recognize that voice even after a thousand years of desolation, the sarcastic yet euphoric voice of his sister, Mari Katsuki. 

"Mari," The Japanese's boy eyes teared with homesickness as he adjusted his position in bed, curled between the sheets with an angelic smile on his face, about to throw a wave of questions at her. "How are mom and dad doing?" 

"Pretty much the same, there is no one to get all excited over ice-skating or school anymore," She said with a wry chuckle. "That isn't the point though. I have some bad news and I just managed to call you."

"What do you mean?" His intuition already guided him towards the correct answer. 

"He went out of coma this autumn." 

Sustained silence aggravates the rising tension. Yuuri managed to swallow the limp in his throat before speaking again. 

"I need to findー I need to find that man andー" 

"And what? Apologise? Don't be a fool, knowing his reputation, he could hunt you down." Yuuri's face was drained and colorless, honey eyes lustrous, rueful and tearing with affliction. A couple of options hazily sprinted through his head until the guilt didn't take over his rationality. He felt like an idle hero. A burden with a facade of innocence. 

"Mari, I cannot think about anything right now," He admits, rubbing the edge of his head in slow motion. His actions in the past were going to demolish Victor's idea of Yuuri's inner purity. A consecutive glum creature in the world of criminals, the society is going to devour him whole with prejudices. He kept that mask for too long, a secret between him and his family who was burdened to fall asleep worrying about their son and brother, pacing for hours. 

At that moment, Yuuri Katsuki wanted to find that man and shatter a bottle of champagne into his skull and afterwards use the remaining pieces of his broken dignity to end this agony, to slice his breath and escape from reality. The conversation took a strikingly different direction. 

"Is that what you called me for?" He questioned lowly, something cracked at the ominous silence. 

"What else should I call you for at 3 am our time?" Inane maroon. 

"Maybe, to ask if I'm doing okay?" A voice sounded through the phone, barely containing his sobs. He was a masterful, livid combination of insanity, mixed with coldness that he barely restricted. Was the lampshade or the draped curtains soaking crimson? No, he just saw red through the misty lenses. "Is that less important than what I did?" 

"Have you gone mad? Don't raise your voice, i'm your older sister!" 

"I won't get into desputes," Was all Yuuri said before ending the conversation and throwing the phone across the bed, fists clenching Victor's pillow, woebegone and frustrated. The lack of care was heart-rending, like an arrow of betrayal that ruined his whole morning, and if it wasn't for Victor's scent stained over the pillowcase, he would have saw the whole world in a deep red shade right know. Black was much more suiting as he shut his eyes. 

His chapped lips pressed against the fabric to calm himself with the scent of the imprinted floral cologne. Infused with sweet honey and vanilla scent from Victor's shampoo. It reminded od his lover's smooth touch. He hated being center of attentionー at school, on the rink, or even at home. Right now, all his demons were exposed, like the night has stripped him of his pride, of his past and guilt. 

Yuuri was always determined to meet the person he almost killed that night, he knew nothing about him besides that he used to be a relative to a well recognized businessman, it was a surprise how he managed to preserve himself and hide in Russia. Maybe it was luck during the justice process, but Yuuri was a realist and never used destiny as an excuse. 

"Victor," His muffled voice sounded through the dead silence. "Will you be able to forget that I'm not innocent?" He said gripping the pillow. "I need your help." Like a litany, his muffled voice appeals. 

He was now an adult, who felt responsible for every action he took, but how can you fix broken fragments when you can't even sew your own scars? 

While trying to collect his logical thoughts amidst the morning serenity, someone banged on the front door making his breath hitch. It couldn't be any scarier than what already intruded his mind. 

By the continuous and loud banging he assumed who that might be with a thin smile. Perhaps, he could contemplate over everything while making himself useful, he ambled to the door and opened it while fixing his glasses. 

"What fucking took you so long, katsudon? I've been hanging here for five minutesー" 

"ありがとうございます." Yuuri thanked in Japanese, confusing the exasperated boy. 

"Speak fucking english or russian!" Yurio demanded, bumping into Yuuri's shoulder when demonstratively pushing him out of his way. Yuuri only chuckled sleepily, watching the other slump on the Victor's couch while he attempted to fill a glass of water. 

"Can I offer you something? Are you thirsty?" Yuuri politely asked after putting water on the stove. Yurio smiled, prissy and arrogant, flattered by the boy who acted as if he knew that apartment better than him. 

"I saved your ass because Victor would have ended me if I didn't." Yurio rolled his eyes, hood pulled over his messed hair. He didn't bother to take off his shoes, or notice the wrinkled bedsheets. 

"When was the last time you got any sleep? Should I at least make you coffee?" Yuuri offers, brown eyes of concern and endearment reaching the younger. He had black circles under his eyes, almost unnatural, concealing his pale skin and deceitful countenance, hands clenching into fists. 

"Yeah, actually awesome idea! The hospital coffee is the most tasteless and disgusting thing I have drank." He spat, avoiding eye contact. 

"From a hospital?" Yuuri asked, wondering where the coffee might be. He wasn't surprised when he found a cupboard of expensive and outrageously fancy alcohol, bit no coffee. They were untouchedーas if put there like a collection or decoration. 

"A friend of mineー" He drawled the words unwilling, fighting with his headache. "Fuck, actually it's one of our hitman that was put in hospital after someone kicked his ass." Yuuri smiled half-hearted at the bluntness. 

"I hope he will recover fast," Yuuri said. "Do you know where Victor keeps his coffee?" Yurio rolled his eyes dramatically. 

"Fuck the coffee, airhead. I came here because Victor wants me to be your babysitter. We are heading outdoors for the whole day and to my club at the night so hurry up. You might like doing nothing here all day, but I can't handle feeling caged between these walls." 

"Really?" Yuuri mumbled with doe-like eyes. "Let me brush my teeth and take a shower. I will be ready in no time!" 

"As you say." 

_

"How bold of you to export me from the party, Nikiforov," Chris scoffed from the backseat, looking at the grim roads. The decision Victor took was on a whim and Chris's assistance was much needed. 

"I suppose the fun has just began for us," Victor cryptically smiled while driving. 

Chris resembled an elite dancer after a rough shiftー his hair slick with gel, dressed in black clothes that emphasized on his leather, tight pants. Chris was a witty and light-hearted man who could easily trick a fool to fall into his tentative and seductive words. Currently, Victor needed someone to stand by him and Chris owed him a favour ever since he took him back from Moscow. 

"We are almost there, I suppose. We should be extra cautious, it could be treacherous." Victor warns preparing his revolver with stoic expression, his legs tensed from standing for hours straight waiting for the other by the entrance to end his debauchery at a local bar,where he could blend with the night shadows. 

"Is someone familiar with the apartment or it is abandoned?" Chris questioned, catching a whiff of Victor's cologne as he leaned to the front seat. Enticing man with large green eyes and unprofessional attire. What could possibly go wrong? 

"Contacted the landmaster. He claims that this apartment has been brought before years, but rarely used." Victor wonders, looking at the humble building, huddled at the bottom of a gloomy street. 

"Something more suspicious?" Chris adds. 

"We are yet to find out." Victor mumbled before parking the vehicle and getting a little suitcase with instruments, chewing a gum that will be helpful in a bit. 

It was an excellent place to hide, nothing bizarre about it that could provoke the police's interest. An old-fashioned building that appeared to be haunted, eerie noises made Victor's heart leap. The area was far from suspicious, mainly old people lived into the tiny flats, a sacred, beautifully decorated church down the street. 

That place was fated to be a justice room. 

Victor and Chris entered the dark corridors, finding a way up to the third floor where the apartment was supposed to be. They expected someone to guard the placeー a relative of their rival or even a bodyguard, but it didn't happened as expected. Ready to fire their guns at every possible moment, they opened the Pandora's box. 

It was a wooden door that probably leads to hell, and if it did, hell was a deafeningly quiet place. Victor pressed his chewed gum to the peephole, so no one could see them, knocking politely and pressing an ear to the door, waiting to hear a subtle click of a weapon. It required concentration and a lot of practice, if you miss it, there is a high chance to become a grater, bullets across your body as you mindlessly step in. 

After he heard nothing disturbing, with a nod he opened the briefcase and acted to break the lock, just to see a chain from the inside, hanging without being attached to the doorー a sign that there was no one inside to put it. Victor immediately noticed how bare the interior is, there weren't any furnitures or signs of life. Whoever lived here, left a naught behind. 

The scary part was when both Victor and Chris looked at each other with disgust when they sensed the smell of decomposing body. Victor couldn't mistake the overpowering poison of the smell, malodorous blood, terror, mixed with the rotten remains of the flesh. It almost charred the Russian's lungs with repugnance, the stinking smell mixed with mold and dirt. 

"I shouldn't have drank so muchー" Chris admitted, feeling sickness turn his stomach, leaning to the shadowy walls. His face flushed, eyes blank when his throat closed. 

"Keep quiet." Victor shushed him, pulling his gun. He followed the outrageous, suffocating scent to a specious room, where the dead body was tied on a chair. 

It was Emil. The journalist. 

The lights were left on, the body was already a cold piece meat of demise. Placed in sitting position over a chair, hands tied from behind. Victor had his gloves on to examine to remains of Emil's body. It wasn't evident whether he suffered or not, nor was the method used to kill the journalist. His eyes were opened, his skull bathed in crimson gore, staring with depressed, delusional gape at the wall. 

Whilst Victor attempted to imagine the complete scene, with Michele or Leroy standing at that corner, asking for his last words before Emil became the victim of their wrath. Victor's eyes twinged with fear, his legs caved out underneath his body as he tasted the primal desire on his soft palate. The silence between the two was prominent, like a stab directly over Victor's weakened heart. 

"The apartment is clean, Nikiforov," Chris reported, shifting his weight on his right leg, delusional and frustrated at the man who died. He could scold the body for holding an unspoken truth, and if he could just whisper within the shadows what he saw, if this cycle of pain could only end. "They certainly wanted us to find him. He gave us this location, he paid for it." 

Victor nods meekly, mouth opened slightly. 

"I'm not sure that they want us to find them, but they prevent anyone from letting us know about their existence." Victor retorted, shaking his head in disagreement, how could a liquor cure the traumatic sight? 

"Allow me to treat you with a drink, sir." How could he be in mood to relax, when so much violence was practiced in front of them? Victor just now noticed the piece of paper placed next to the dead body, formally out in envelope as if it was a letter. 

They even left a noteー how thoughtful. 

"I will have to refuse," Nikiforov responded, taking the note from the ground. Chris wasn't gratified with the answer, curiousily examining the movements of his boss.

"Then, let's get out of here as soon as possible. Take me to 'House of Envy', I might have lost my appetite here, but I want to have some fun tonight." He tilted his head, when he realized that Victor wasn't taking his eyes off the wrinkled piece of paper. 

"Nikiforov? What does the note say?" Chris questioned. 

"I don't know," 

"What do you meanー" 

Pain erupted in Victor's chest as he opened it. His heart was visibly pounding, vision blurry with dizziness and panic. He expected everything, from a threat to a confession, but not that. That was disruptive and a way too personal, the game became too wicked, too cruel. 

Chris's voice rang through his ears as if he was underwater, throat clenching. His hands winced, face turning into a threatening thunderstorm of sorrow and anger.

"Nikiforov! What does it say? Whatー" 

"We need to go to 'House of Envy'. Immediately!" Victor warned and ran oit of the apartment, making Chris stumble upon his feet, running after his boss. 

"Will you fucking tell me what the note said?" Chris snapped when they got into the car, driving with high speed down the murky roads of Saint Petersburg's midnight hours, only their heavy breathing audible. 

Victor handed him the note. 

Chris looked upon confused. 

"Nikiforov, the message is written in a foreign language? Can you identify the symbols?" 

"It's Japanese." Victor frantically said, cursing in Russian under his breath. 

The was only one person could give Victor both translation and comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments are much appreciated, feel free to find me on my Instagram :) 
> 
> My Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	10. Let The Game Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are afraid, aren't you?" Victor questioned lowly with a chuckle, instructing Yuuri's inexperienced hands around his toned waist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content in this chapter! Read at your own risk!
> 
> Welcome to the madness :)

"Old man, how was the mission?" Yurio barked, cigarette hanging from his droopy bottom lip.

"The situation is deteriorating." Victor responds with peculiarly amicable voice. Bearing in mind the unsightly, hideous scene of the dead man from earlier, he was maintaining his composure incredibly well. 

"Nothing new?" Yurio asks with gruff, croaky tone from the nicotine entering his lungs. 

Either Michele was a fantom who hides with the night shadows, or JJ is a genius. In amy case, they have an insurmountable issue to fix and the duo of these notorious men wasn't easy to reach. At the expense of men, gore and tears, they found some deceitful clues that quickly lead to nothing. 

"Nothing too significant or worth our attention," Victor states. "Where is Yuuri?" 

"Inside, ordered a glass of champagne. Fruity one!" The teenager's laughter was raspy, looking at the lonely boy who hit the bottom of the glass. "He behaved well, I reassure." Victor's eyes softened, taking his bottom lip between his teeth to conceal his chuckleーlacking any taunt or mock. 

"Yura, you stink like vodka and tobacco, far too unprofessional. Please, get yourself together," Yurio almost gags on the drink he has set aside when the heir of the mafia whispers his order, sharper than steel blades, categorical and dangerously low. Then, with a grin, he entered the overcrowded club and walked to the corner where Yuuri was sitting, trying to mingle with the chatting groups of people and stay as natural as possible. 

"Victor!" The Japanese almost exclaimed, when he saw Victor approach him. 

As delectable as ever, Victor lit the gloomy corner with his winsome presence. His shirt wrinkled under the blood stained representative suit, body quivering in the embrace of the coat covered with bullet holes. Sapped from the wickedness of his own profession, Victor was still as beautiful and majestic as ever, even carrying the weight of all the shooting stars, all the wishes Yuuri had. Even carrying the burden of many's death. 

"I heard you behaved well today with Yura, I hope you won't get too attached though, I will definitely get jelous!" Victor joked and warily made his way to one of the chairs next to the younger, slumping his body begrudgingly. The suspenders stretched with every sharp, swallow breath he took absentmindedly, cigarette burning between his fingers. 

"You don't look very well," Yuuri stated, brushing Victor's hair away from his discolored face, stroking his cheek hastily. Victor incessantly leans to the warmth. "Do you want us to go home?" 

"I would much enjoy that, the sequence of events today drained my energy," He mumbled with a sigh, his head woozy, throat clenched. Yuuri could easily say that the older was on the verge of falling asleep, and he couldn't hide his desire to bundle his lover into the security of his bed and wipe all his distress and fear away with gentle kisses. Yuuri's inexperienced lips found their way over Victor's temple each evening, fingers tracing over his muscles, palms meeting the heat of his body. Yuuri has always been ticklish and responsive to the coldness of Victor's limbs, even if his heart was gold. 

The urgency of protection flared within Yuuri's gritted teeth and frantic hands, cupping the side of Victor's face. He kisses himーwet, fruity kiss filled with desire. Quick and sinful, hand stroking Victor's thigh as he mumbled something unintelligible. 

"Let me find Yurio to thank him and pay for the drink, then we can head homeー" 

"This place belongs to me, you don't have to pay for anything. Or even thank him, he works for me. It was an order, he did his job." Yuuri's eyes looked down with defeat as he acknowledged the searing possessiveness Victor practiced. He seized the other's figure, smiling at the purrs rambling through his ribcage. 

"Actually, I had something in mind to tell you." He said scratching the back of his neck. 

"And it is?" 

"Victor, it isn't necessary for you to keep me at your apartment. I'm a potential danger, and second off, I'm capable of taking responsibility for the situation," Victor patiently waits for the other to end, shaking his head at the upbeat music, disappointment narrowing his eyebrows. 

"Very discourteous to decline my care," Victor mutters behind his hand, covering his mouth. "You know I insist on that."

"I know." 

Yuuri couldn't quite add up why Victor neglected himself to the point of complete exhaustion? He wasn't the right person to judgeー Yuuri Katsuki deprived himself from much needed sleep even when his mind couldn't function properly, therefore he wasn't exactly the ideal example of a careful person with his own personal boundaries. 

He couldn't convey his feelings properly besides the little comfort he offered. He wasn't the romantic type to give flowers, nor flirtatious to impress with enticing gestures, words and touches. While Victor was supreme, able to buy the whole city where Yuuri was born and bred, Yuuri was nothing more than the person who could wait an eternity just to see Victor safe and sound in his embrace at night. Just to light his cigarette with the smoke of his ownー ablaze, a scratch that can send a whole castle in flames. 

And the throne of power Victor sat on was accompanied with a rustic crown of bones. And there is stood, shimmering silver hair, racing heart underneath thenlong coat, saliva from Yuuri's tongue slipped between the curve of his plushed lips. 

"Yuuri, are you okay?" Victor asked. What happened next puzzled him beyond anticipated, but surely recharged his energy.

Yuuri reluctantly moved from his place, sitting in Victor's lap. Tremors took over the lighthearted Russian at the proximity and welcomed the weight over his groin, thighs moving to adjust the sitting figure closer. He locked his arms around the crevice of Yuuri's waist, lights reflecting the lust intoxicated blown large eyes as Yuuri gulped huge mouthful of air to control his own arousal. He was thankful that Victor was there to be kissedーlittle sounds stimulating the Japanese to keep kissing, elegant like a rose petal, suffocating with yearn. 

Yuuri's tongue was warm and eager, heat and saliva messy between groans, cold fingers rubbing the flexed muscles underneath the blood stained clothes. The heat was melting over Victor's tongue as Yuuri hungrily devoured the older's delicious lips until Victor's heart didn't skip a beat beneath Yuuri's palm. 

Yuuri pulled away, amazed by the citrus taste of Victor's lips that matched the champagne whiff of his breath. The younger guided Victor's hands over his chest where his heart won't calm, meeting Victor's intimacy with excited thumping. Something primal curling in his lower belly as Yuuri's tongue slipped between his lips again and breathed, puffs of desperation, humping the fabric of his pants. Their tongues wrestling, bodies moving in the elixir of love, it was affectionate, real and warm. 

"Yuuriー"

"Shh, Victor," Everyone should feel needed once in a while and Victor missed so many years of being shown fondness. And in the clutches of Yuuri's merciless dominance, Victor was so selfless and brittle, a fragile, benign soul that has been abused, thrown and still here. Breathing, grasping Yuuri's clothes, eyes wide and pleading. "Let me take care of you." 

The Russian was speechless, his body crumbling with complete submission under the stern hold of Yuuri's hands around his neck. He desperately rubbed his half-hard erection against Yuuri's thicker thigh, beholding the curves of softness and debauchery. The younger was dense, impending, a dam' tease that nibbled on the curve of Victor's damp lip, intimate and warm, nurturing and giving. 

He could ravish him senseless, wet spot over the crook of Victor's neck, desperate for more. He moaned when Yuuri's hand traced over the cleft of one of his scars, just where the his pulse bounded. So vulnerable and weak under Yuuri's masterful touch. 

"Господи, Yuuri..." Victor whimpered in his mouth, blue eyes meekly looking at Yuuri's determined glare. For a good minute he completely forgot his own name, sliding into obvilion. The ambrosial abundance of tastes, touches and care made the ground to disappear under his legs. 

Yuuri shall convey his emotions towards the older. They weren't promised tomorrow, he can end up with a bullet in his heart at the monotous of the night. And Yuuri wanted to show Victor how beautiful the Russian isー from the exotic, extraordinary shade of his hair, to the puffy lips that Yuuri leaned to kiss again. Delicious, reminiscent gaze of angelic, sapphire eyes that brimmed with tears at his arousal, his own excitement too distracting. 

Oh Yuuri was so cruel. 

He had to claim Victor as his. To suck into the metallic taste of his bloody lip and fiercely fight for what belonged to him. Hickeys turned purple on Yuuri's whim, addicted, mad and fierce to leave more as his sex hardened in no time at the fight for dominance shown, Victor clawing into Yuuri's joints, bare back and shoulders. 

Yuuri was hysterically enamored with the older. Initially, he had a cold exterior and intimidating glare, nonetheless, there was something lying within the mask of a monster. One gorgeous human being, who was artful, brave and loving. Yuuri worshiped everything about his partnerーthe soft peck on Yuuri's hand just over his pulse, his drowsy giggle while preparing breakfast, his disheveled hair when they intimately shared their secrets in bed and routinely named stars over the north abyss. 

"My love, let's go home," Yuuri mumbled teasingly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment when he saw Chris staring at them with a whistle. Yuuri only tightened his grip on Victor's body and dragged him outside.

_

They barely crossed the threshold when Victor hastily connected his lips to Yuuri's, throwing his glasses aside. He couldn't believe how much of mastery Yuuri Katsuki could give and dominationーthe nerdy phychology student who would stutter his own name was in reality a thunder of menace that could make Victor's legs wobbly with his tongue. 

After a quick shower, the intoxicated males rushed to the bed, skin heated, hearts racing. 

Victor was on the top of Yuuri's bare body, kissing with adoration every centimeter of his lover's inflamed, chaste skin. Yuuri whimpered helplessly, hands reaching to spread Victor's cheeks and create some friction by rubbing his neglected, painfully hard member. The stars aligned only for them, and no one else. 

"Victor, for God's sakeー" He wouldn't forgive him if Victor had stopped. Ears and neck being touched with cold hands, his breath ragged, hitches at the silver locks of natural hair between his fingers, drools, lines of saliva between their aching lips. 

"What's the matter, my love?" Victor pulled away from Yuuri's body to take a look at the masterpiece he has created. Skin abused with marks spreading across Yuuri's swollen chest, eyes blankly staring into the grim ceiling. His member was leaking with pre cum just by the thought of the most beautiful human lying there with pleading eyes. "Tell me what you need?" Victor incentives, stroking Yuuri's feverish cheek with his thumb. 

"Let me take the lead, I want to take care of you," Victor gasped at the suggestion, positioning his body into Yuuri's lap within a second. 

The image of Yuuri's board shoulders keeping the shaking Russian steady while pounding into his neglected hole made Victor's cock twitch. He looked up indignantly, meeting those wide, fiery with lust, deep set eyes that glowed under the faint blaze of the winter streetposts, scattering light across the dingy sheets. 

"You are afraid, aren't you?" Victor questioned lowly with a chuckle, instructing Yuuri's inexperienced hands around his toned waist. 

In response, Yuuri allowed himself to lean closer, biting intimately into Victor's reddening lobe. The older growled in his throat, kissing Yuuri's damp lips after admiring their softness. They were a masterpiece. Kissing for the missed lonely nights Yuuri sculptured from his devastation, the bloody rags from the midnights when Victor's agony licked his infected woundsーand they made love with so much affection and warmth, cuddled between the sheets as no one else ever existed, no one could unhook the moon from the night sky, no one could master their touches like Victor had. 

Matching heartbeats, heat between their thighs, rolling in the spell of love. 

"Yuuriー" Victor's heart skipped a beat when Yuuri's hand clumsily stroke the base of Victor's cock, making it wince eagerly. "Пожалуйста!" 

Yuuri was trusting into nothing, the image of Victor's tightness around him too overpowering that it caused fatigueーmoondust sprinkled into the glacier eyes, moaning, growling and dry humping his lover to feel more. 

"Not yet, Victor." Yuuri ordered with trembling voice, his pants tight from the level of intimacy, exhilarated to reach and simply envelope the older's lips into a forcing, whereas sweet and controlling kiss. He inhaled the night blooming jasmine scent of Victor's neck, feeling the other's deprived touch. 

After a few synchronized breaths, Yuuri's finger slipped inside Victor, precum messing his boxers, Victor felt so exposed as he gritted against the softness, so lewd. As if Yuuri didn't undress his body, but his soul, stitching his scars with sympathy. 

"Yuuri, add another one! Please! Iー"  
Victor endeavored to delay his climax, hole quivering and tightening around the Japanese's slick fingers. Yuuri obeyed and inserted second one, scissoring his fingers timidly. It was so obscene, finding his sweet spot as he kissed his neck proudly. "Don't stop, Yuuri!" 

"Don't take your eyes off me," Victor's entrance twitched, cock hardening painful at the possessive whisper, a melody that was so reminiscent , so evocative and yet detached. 

After a few agonizing strokes, Yuuri was waiting for Victor's heat. The russian nodded with no objection, sloppily palming his lover's member. Victor bounced impatiently just a second after Yuuri penetrated him and the japanese could only savour the tightness, humping his own hole over the sheets, throwing his head backwards. 

Yuuri was stimulated from every possible place, drooling at the debauchery, going faster than his heart could take,saliva at the corner of his mouth. Victor threw his glasses aside, playing with his lover's chest, breathing into his throat in a passionate kiss. 

"Yuuri, YuーAh!" He was interrupted bu Yuuri's fingers playing with his hard nipples, saliva wetting them as he sucked intensively. Victor tasted like heaven, wrapping his lover into a hug. "Harder, pleaseーYuuri, Iー" Victor's guise when Yuuri hit his prostate was breath-taking. 

Victor was hyperventilating, chest jolting with distress as he guided Yuuri's hand to place a fist around his throat. Yuuri gulped, whining incoherently as the Russian spoilt his cock by clenching around him. He picked his pace, worry furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Breathe," Yuuri reminded gently, brushing Victor's hair from his face and leaned to press a caring peck to Victor's forehead, a whimper slipped upon his lip that was swallowed immediately. "Breathe, Vitya. It's okay, take a breath." Yuuri instructed, pushing Victor's body to lay on the soft mattress, exhaling into his lungs as he connected their lips again. 

Victor gasped at the awful feeling of being empty, his hole dripping with semen and lubricant, cock pulsating with his erratic heart. 

"Yuuri, you are so cruel," Victor pleaded when Yuuri stroke his cock at the view of his lover barely breathing, hard and edged. "Please, солнышко." 

"Vityaー" Yuuri chokes, as he positions his member on Victor's entrance, gathering his naked body into his arms to mend his broken pieces, breathing into his moist lips. Victor almost didn't black out when Yuuri was inside of him again, he had an impressive stamina. 

If someone else sees Yuuri like thisー Victor would kill them. 

Victor closed his eyes with mortification, stunned by the younger's determination, reaching to embrace Yuuri's hands, begging forlornly. As his orgasm approached, the sloppy thrusts soared hitting his sweet spot simultaneously. Gripping him for dear life, only the careful kisses, bites over his feverish skin could bring him back to reality. 

"Yuuri! Myー Oh God, pleaseー" Victor chants, broken sobs infuses with pleasure, broken under the younger who tasted every place of Victor's body, tickling the side of his ribs, giving his member a harsh squeeze. "Yuuriー Ah, let me come, I can't hold it, Yuuri." He pleads. 

"I've got you, come for me," Yuuri reassured, cumming inside Victor, collapsing into his knees as his legs trembled. He hastily licked his tremulous body that made him come untouched, trembling and clinging into the pillows, riding his orgasm with heavy pants. Yuuri just stayed inside of him, small kisses pressed to the back of Victor's sweaty neck, snuggling almost cutely after such an intense session. 

They took a full minute matching each other's breathing, hands tangled together in a tight grip that Yuuri kissed again, and again, earning a purr from Victor who nuzzled into the salty skin. 

"You are overheating, солнышко," Victor muttered quivering, touching Yuuri's face. Yuuri nodded, falling over Victor's chest. "You did so well Yuuri, you took such a good care if me. Thank you, my love," Yuuri was mad about being praised, those words only made his cock harden against the fabric of the sheets again. 

"Bathroom." Yuuri mumbled, kissing Victor's shoulders who flinched with a surge of oversensitivity when Yuuri reached to touch him. 

Oh Victor needed him like the tides needed the moon, like a frost covered crocuses that need the sun to bloom, and he would be nothing more than a machine for killing if Yuuri wasn't by his side. Realisation punched him with a gloved fist, immersed with disappointment and if it wasn't for Yuuri's nose rubbing into Victor's, whispering into his ears he would have gave up to the vulnerability that his lover could probably wash later in the shower. 

But Victor's plans of a hot bath were thwarted by Yuuri's impish grin, kissing his lover's stomach, down his groin. His nails scratching Victor's thighs, fingers in his mouth so he could taste himself.

Yuuri has different plans.

_

Being in Victor's embrace could be compared to having a walk over puffy clouds, the moon hovering above, like a fairy tale with the clichéd happy ending. Yuuri's little heart was a dove, free when had something to protect. He had something that kept him grounded, as he concentrated to the smoke of Victor's cigarette, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Yuuri's arms were a big warm blanket, that found Victor when cold. 

"Victorー" Yuuri's eyes widened amidst the darkness. "Are you hurting from earlier, did Iー" 

"It's fine," Victor whispers, face glittering with mirth. "I still can't accept that I was your first. You haven't been touched, have you?" 

Yuuri shook his head at his lover's curiousity, settling himself next to Victor, caressing one of his old deeply engraved scars, silver-hued and healing from the traumatic events Victor had. Victor, however, didn't mind Yuuri's hands on him, even if he scratched his hair or kissed his tiny moles. Victor was seriously turning into a puppy, Yuuri thought. 

"I haven't, Vitya," He reassured. "But, I'm convinced that I'm your first in many ways too." 

"You are right," Victor breathes, memories of uninvited sluts invading his apartment after the extreme nights in 'House of Envy' entering his recollection. 

"Victorー" Yuuri trailed off, attempting to collect the right words. "I wish you could appreaciate yourself more... " He splitters. 

"Hm?" 

"Sometimes I hold you for a little bit longer than I should, because I fear it might be the last time I do." Sapphire eyes of indescribable anxiety shimmered under the moonlight, reaching to kiss Yuuri's fingers as he listened. "We aren't promised tomorrow, and I kiss you like I'm saying goodbye. We can't escape from them, can we Vitya?" 

"Yuuriー" Perhaps, under the touch of love everyone could become a poet. And under the nudity of Yuuri's words, Victor could lose control. 

"I could die for youー" 

"Yuuri!" Victor raised his voice, pressing a finger to Yuuri's lips, scolding him for his hideous, dreadful words that made his heart clench. His gaze softened immediately, pressing the younger into an unyielding, full of desperation hug. Their scents mixing as they stayed there silently. "Don't ever repeat that." 

"My love won't cease soon, meaning that your enemies should worry. I could be their worst weapon, Vitya." Victor didn't dare to doubt that. 

"Shh, we aren't having a last moment, not soon," Tiredness whipped up Yuuri's anxiety as Victor pressed him into a bone crashing hug, bathing his heated skin with kisses. "You smell so good, don't squirm." 

After a moment of comfortable silenceー their hands entwined, savoring the peace and animosity of the night city, Victor went out of the bed, wearing only his boxers. 

He returned with a full glass of cold water that he passed to Yuuri, and something a little a bit disturbing in his hand. 

A note. 

The one they found next to Emil's body. 

Victor tugged Yuuri's hand to his chest and let the other feel his heartbeat.

"Yuuri, I need you to translate something for me." Victor's face remained its poise gave his lover a wrinkled piece of paper with some suspicious blood stains over the edges. 

"ゲームを始めましょう." Yuuri stated opening it. 

"Yes, yesー" Victor squeezed Yuuri's hand to convey his worry. "What does it mean?" 

"Let the game begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it lovely how a many fanart pieces are out there for Yuuri's birthday? I swear, some people are too outstandingly talented for their own good! I hope that Yuuri could sense the joy and happiness he bestowed to million of people, including me :D 
> 
> If you are a writer too (whether it's a fanfiction or a real book with original OCs you are working on) how do you maintain inspiration while dealing with school/university? I take regular night walks after school, listen to music, write poetry at my notebooks and read a lot. Or simply follow the more peculiar things my brain has created in my dreams at night. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm extremely grateful that someone enjoys my work as much as I did when writing! I answer all messages on my Instagram as well as comments here! Feel free to give me some feedback. :)
> 
> My Instagram username: dark_nikiforov
> 
> Here is a link:https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	11. Scars of the innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment the time didn't elapse as Yuuri wished, it ceased as he stared at his family giving all their finances to a theft, who could grab and slit someone's throat without hesitantion. Yuuri was petrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached over a thousand reads, which is frankly the most valuable gift I could receive this December! I've been following the growth in my writing, and those precious, artful souls of you who decided to convey their appreciation for my work are more than welcomed to express their opinions through comments. If you only could have a bite of my gratitude for the support I receive here, you'd know how much I treasure every single read. Thank you! That is seriously the most amazing thing to occur this December. I'm never obvious about writingー I prefer to keep it for myself even at school or at home. Now, I don't feel as lonely as the sheer strength of my imagination works it's way over the blank pages.
> 
> Even if I repeat it a million times it won't be expressive enough but still- thank you!
> 
> Welcome to the madness again :) smut warning!

Who would presume that Yuuri Katsuki enjoyed the lovely wee hours of the morrow that much? His appetence for the chilling wind crawling, twisting over his skin, the moon glowing with enchantment and mystery, hanging from the brightening void, could relax him better than any AM contemplation had. This morning was slightly different from his usual onesーhe was woken up by the vague feeling of someone straddling his thighs, pressing the tiniest wisps of fond pecks between his legs.

Yuuri missed skating like crazyーand due to the deprivation of the ice pieces crumbling as he spins, his countenance seems wistful, lost in muse and observing. The fresh memory of this morning made him grin sheepishly, inky black hair covering his eyes. Victor's sloppy kisses threading a path to Yuuri's searing flesh, grinding over his legs as an animal. He had to return the favour from last night. 

Victor thought that the murky scenery that engulfed the younger in silence and dimness suit him better than the dead of Saint Petersburg's hostile evenings. Fog crawling around his even, dewy and glowy skin. Yuuri's callow smile curves his lips upwardsーsweet noises, pants and moans escaping his lips. 

"Vityaー" Yuuri's voice resembled tremors of insecurity as the older stimulated his partner's member through the sheets, making the younger helplessly rock against Victor's flexing thigh, cradling his head to his neck. The sheets soaking, barely breathing from the inexperienced kisses. 

"There, there," The older reinforced, rubbing circles over his lover's bare back. Yuuri's pants grew erratic, something smutty, primal glistening his large eyes at the errotic, powerful union. The obscene sounds encouraged Victor to keep going, harder, faster. 

He could know get the faintest idea of what his victims encountered, it took his breath, lazily drawing his hips back and forth in Victor's hand.

"Good," Victor praised, controlling his own breathing as he encourages the younger to keep going, his stern, wide hands, squeezing Yuuri's cock as a little experiment.

"Victor, I'm really closeー" He pants, being shushed by his lover, wrapped by the floral cologne and the deep, refreshing scent of the morning tempest. The hollow sky dark, thunders of wetness colliding over his mouth.   
"I will come in your hand!" Yuuri warns hastily, bucking his hips endeavoring to delay his orgasm. 

Victor, notwithstanding, was too distracted by the limpid chocolate eyes that innocently stared into him with wholesome santiment. Yuuri's legs shaking, muscles jolting as the older leans to press an impatient kiss on Yuuri's twitching member and eventually end his agony. 

"Nghー" Yuuri's sleepy delirium is messy and arousing, hands gripping Victor's hair whilst the other ran his tongue up and down his length. He was a freakー completely absorbed by his lover's pleasure, opening his needy hole with two of his fingers, teasing the tip that soon leaked over Victor's tongue. "Uh... Ngー" Yuuri prods. 

Victor grants a permission by nodding his head gently, grasping Yuuri's hand in his own larger one, allowing the warmth to seep through his fingers. The sloppy, shameful sounds of pleasure taught Victor insanity, the older holding Yuuri as if he would slip between his fingers like sand. 

Yuuri shoots his liquids weakly, coaxing Victor's wet muscle, clenching every millimeter of his body, tightening around Victor's fingers, curled inside of him. His cock miserably softens at Victor's whim, heart thumping violently in his ears. Victor Nikiforov wasn't made of stoneーface flushed as he came, riding his own orgasm with unceasing whimpers, whispering Yuuri's name with pride and possessiveness. 

No one ever loved Victor without ulterior motives, a cliché that was painfully accurateー from traitors that died at the shrine of Victor's viciousness, to cheap sluts that never intrigued him.

Yuuri's presence was something different, his body was softer than speculated, his stamina to envy. A little nerd that fucks with so much fierce is the balance that made Victor's stomach swell with excitement. He adored even his molesー and especially the way Yuuri's eyes would disappear when he beams. His eyes were intelligent, spiritual and brighter than the sun, intimately frank under the chanson of the moonlight. Yuuri was fascinating.

"You are shaking, лапочка." Victor pointed, sucking on his lover's skin to bless his ears with a little moan. Possessively, Victor's grip tightened around Yuuri's waist before filling a bathtub and preparing an extra large cup of herbal tea. 

And in such a hushed, magnificent morning like this one, everything slipped into obfuscation. A secret from the ruins of Yuuri's past revealed a side of him that Victor may not be ready to accept.

_

"Your are going to get a headache, stop overburdening your mind. If you feel too preoccupied I will be at the kitchen to keep you company!" Victor's words are still detached and not honest enough, you cannot read through the mind of someone who has seen more death than the God himself. 

"I will be alright, Vitya," Victor purrs at the nickname, burying his head into the sweet scent of Yuuri's hair, licking the herbal scented drops over Yuuri's lips. 

After skimming the cursive handwriting, he reluctantly went to the kitchen, already missing the coziness of his lover's touch. 

"The legal system needs more phychology students like you," Victor compliments from the other room, silently since the ironic was prominent. 

Yuuri laughed at the sardonic comment, his thoughts too noisy likewise. The purulence of Emil's wounds, his arteries filled with black, greenish substance, cells breaking down from the lack of oxygen. Victor didn't overlook the minor details, never letting an evidence to slip into obscurity. There must be an answer and he was willing to find it. 

Victor barely drank from the steamy beverage when the phone rang. His lips turned up when the familiar passively aggressive tone sounded, cursing in broken english, switching to russian. Victor's body is loose and slumps against the couch, his most cherished and loved pastel mug in his left hand. 

"Yura! I hope you are having a lovely morning! How is Otabek feeling?" Victor was eternally different today, perhaps it was Yuuri's citrus breath that melted over Victor's tongue or the tea that Yuuri bought for him. Such a thoughtful little reminder of his fondness!

"Why are you so gross today?" Victor could feel Yurio glower. "Is it the pig who spoilt your ass last night?" Victor wasn't pleased with the unnecessary comment. 

"When you get at my age and experience, you will view sex as something normal. But I'm glad you asked me for educational purposes, do you have an interestー" 

"Don't you dare sayー" 

"No punishment will follow if you are talking about Otabek, I trust him with the dignity of my brother!" Victor is downright exaggerating, mocking in the most sarcastic way possible. 

"Fine, fine, Fine!" Yurio repeats more than necessary. "I won't mention the pig." How unprofessional. 

"Call him a pig again and you won't be able to see Otabek again." 

"That isn't fair, old man! Jeez, you interfere into my life too much!" The teenager forgets his place rather quickly and Victor had to revise him where he belonged and therefore, where his lover belonged. 

"What have you got, Yura? Be quick," Victor said abruptly. 

"Nothing, his existence is under wraps," Yurio metaphorically explains. "Yakov assumes that he wants to make business with the bratva, it's up to you whether we will find and end that piece of trash before he rubs me the wrong way again orー"

"I won't negotiate with him," Victor's words are categorical and sharp. "He had proven how much of an insignificant creature he is. I have nothing to do with this man." 

"Fine," Yurio cuts him before it would be too late for him to stop Victor's lecture over moral norms. "What should we do?" 

"We will investigate the Crispino family, Leroy must have chosen his puppet cautiously," Victor's predatory smirk darkens his face. "Dismiss all my meetings today likewise. 'House of envy' is all yours. I will just take care of the finance matters that emerged." 

"Perfect, I plan to get Chris's help with the case," Victor frowns, hearing a soft click of the kitchen door. 

"As you wish, however, I forbid you to spread personal information in front of him." 

"I know, I know. It would be absolutely inane. One last thing, we collected the dead bodies from the shooting scene at your boyfriend's place," Yurio said lowly. "I will be able to call you as soon as we identify them." 

Victor nods and end the conversation, placing his phone aside. 

"Crispino, what type of a criminal are you?" Victor's question slipped upon his lips without him realizing that Yuuri is in the room, staring at him suspiciously.  
Victor fudges restlessly with the threatening note between his fingers, keeping his head steady with his hand. 

"Victorー" Yuuri spoke insecurely, voice cracking as he pronoused Victor's name, mind cluttered. "How would you know about Michele Crispino?" 

A brief moment of total silence follows, eerie and appalling. Victor was certain that he went deaf, the crackle of people walking over the snow buried cobblestreets, disappeared. The mobster had diverse methods of dealing with stress, rage or anxiety, nonetheless, amidst the horror of his loved one's words, he found nothing but distrust and sorrow. A twist of a gruesome chain. 

"Michele Crispino?" Victor repeats like a mantra. "How could I not? He is a rival of my business. Currently attempting to get rid of me." 

"NーNo!" Yuuri choked on a hitched breath, violently shaking hands covering his hanging mouth. Victor had no idea of how to console the younger neither why Yuuri knew this man. Revelation is as sharp as the constellation of rhe arrow, but it still pierces Victor into the nothingness. The shock etched deeply into the serenade of inward screams. 

Wasn't he innocent? 

Victor's expression is grave, unsympathetic and wounded. Oh, Yuuri was never going to forget Victor's azure abyss, sinking into suffocating despair and panic , body stiff and sickened. A strong surge of wistful desire to ground his lover, to hurry and shower his wrists, neck and forehead with gentle kisses, pecks of nothing at the back of his sanity. He couldn't. 

"Vitya, heー" Victor doesn't interrupt. He is calmly listening, preserving his poise. The most outrageous step he could be forced to take was to plain a bullet in Yuuri's body. An absurd! 

He would much prefer to choke on the muzzle and fire bullets inside his own body until his chest didn't froze unyielding, and Yuuri's caged truth that was about to be said didn't make much of a difference. He still would sacrifice, sell his soul to the devil, to keep Yuuri safe. "He is involved with the mafia?" 

Oh любовь моя, what has happened to you? 

Victor seems aloof, apathetic and unscathed. Therefore, if such man shuts himself you will find yourself searching through the debris of wrecked trust in anguishー because no one, besides one little, simple human being like Yuuri, could hurt him without permission. 

Oh Yuuri could kill him without warningーit took a single word. 

"He is a mobster, working for my rival," Victor's information is restricted, partly due to the shock, nonetheless he remained level-headed. "What is your connection with him?" Yuuri's chest erupted with discomfort at Victor's doubt, guilt making him unable to speak adequately. 

"I almost killed Michele before two years," 

Victor's initial presumption was to connect his lover to Yakaza, the Japanese most known organized crime group, however, he had no physique or mentality of a killer. "Victor, pleaseー"

"Stay away," Victor warns when he saw the younger taking a step forward, instinctively reaching for his pistol over the glassy table. "I don't want to hurt you, Yuuri. Keep your distance. I beg you." Yuuri's eyes are unbelievably wide, salty tears rolling down his flushed face. He is agile and rapidly wipes his face, attempting to stay calm as the ground caves out underneath him. 

A oppressing pitch blackness of anxiety. Pecks of discomforts at the back of your soul. Dotted vision. Hunger for something primordial. 

"I was certain that you will see the dark side," Yuuri almost sobbed, voice reverberated with woe and fear. "You thought I was innocent." 

"What game are you playing?" Victor mumbles with pained voice, gifting the younger with his coldest glare. 

"You make me feel sane, and now I can't even protect what I love! Not my family, not you, not myself!" The helplessness in Yuuri's pleads encourages the silver haired man to increase the proximity reluctantly. The way he broke down indicates innocence. 

He felt sudden guilt for incriminating the younger before hearing his explanation. He sobs, chest convulsing with agony, hideous pleads of one forlorn, hurt man. Who loved him. 

Victor still trusts him, with no hesitation. 

"Yuuriー"

"I knew that one day I will wake up and it will come back," Yuuri covers his face with one of his hands to cover his stigma, ugly tears and blood-shot eyes. "I shouldn't have put you in that situation. You could be riskingー" He writhes with apprehension. "You could pay with your life! God, forgive me! Please, forgive me. I cannot hurt you, not you." 

Victor's puzzlement is evident as he knitted his eyebrows, kneeling next to the shaking figure to draw small circles over his back. It could be an well exaggerated scene, but Victor was capable of telling the difference between a fake scene and a panic attack. 

"It's okay, Yuuri." 

"Noー" The younger stammers, attempting to grab Victor's weapon. "Victor, for your own safety, you need to end it here," Victor could only inaudibly gasp, expression darkening with anger.   
"Victor, I can't let you be in danger because of my past mistakes! The note from last night is related to this man, isn't it?! Oh God, God, Victor... You can getー What if he hurts you? No, cannot let that... I can't! Just make it stop, please." 

"Yuuri, Yuuriー" Victor's doubt is quickly erased, the older was now trying to put Yuuri out of his hunched position, holding his hands into his own. "There, there," The soothing words, however, caused greater angst and panic. 

"Victor, I beg you. I won't run away from him or myself. I can't forgive myself for bringing you into thisー" 

"Yuuri, you have nothing to do with him. He is working for a rival of mine, but you need to tell me what had happened, да?" Yuuri takes some choked breaths, before consoling his poor heart with the abyssal azure beauty in front of him, intuitively following the soothing voice, leaning to Victor's shoulder. His breathing instinctively matches Victor's steadier one. 

"Iー God, Victor... Forgive me!" He hiccups, chest convulsing with swallow breaths. Victor mentally punched himself for the fact that he literally, almost pointed a gun towards his beloved one. He will never forgive himself for that. For blaming the person who unconditionally loves him into something as dirty before even listeningー absolutely cruel. 

"Fuck, Yuuri, you need to calm down or you will collapse!" Yuuri jumps on his feet before Victor could realise, running to grab a little bottle of pills from his backpack, shoving two in his dry throat. Victor does a little gesture of care by bringing him water, he had never witnessed the younger at such stateー enraged and disconsolated. As he puckered his lips to breathe normally, leaning to Victor's palm that stroke his face, he began speaking. 

_

Soft waxy snowflakes turned into a layer of frost in the abandoned evening hours. They gracefully danced with the swirling wind, transforming the half-melted snow around the onsen bath into solid ice. 

That meant more work for Yuuriー the young japanese was still overawed by the extreme snowfall during April, and even irritated, since he was the one responsible to remove the snow every morning and evening. The wind hustles against the panoramic windows, the evening starless; brisk. 

One night, unexpectedly, a strange figure was in the outdoors spring. Yuuri had a thick coat to protect his body from the coldness, a shove hanging from his right hand. After pulling the lapels, beanie clumsily put on his head to prevent his ears from reddening further, he spoke nonchalantly with man. 

"Excuse me, but we aren't working," He said perplexed, the shove heavy between his fingers, already sceptical that this man wasn't an ordinary visitor. He didn't recall seeing him earlier, thus the black clothing and suspicious posture indicated that something was definitely off. Afraid not to startle him, he whispered. "Sirー" 

"Out of my way," He didn't have enough time to react before the male pushed him violently on the floor with a whump, his glasses falling off his face, the rims breaking. He immediately felt remorseful for not fighting the stranger back, skidding to a halt as he ran down the hall. 

Hurrying to the reception, he witnessed the man was already yelling orders to all Yuuri's fully awake family. The expression of his mother, his lighthearted and endearing mother, was now an upheaval of worry, bristling with daunt. Everyone were rushing to obey his ordersー and what intimidated all of them was the black steel blade peering from under his sleeve. 

For a moment the time didn't elapse as Yuuri wished, it ceased as he stared at his family giving all their finances to a theft, who could grab and slit someone's throat without hesitantion. Yuuri was petrified.

"Why are you so noisyー" One of the doors slided revealing Yuuri's sister who barely had time to adjust the situation. When the man jumped to use his weapon, Yuuri's fight or flight response activited, causing him to fearlessly push the man backwards, his mother shouting at the closure between the murderer and her son. 

Yuuri was wrung out of any empathy, provocatively catching the other man off guard and slumps over the floor with him, earning a pained groan. The screech echoing in his ears. 

Yuuri isn't a professionalist in fightingー he offers no explanation as he punched the man straight into the throat, trying to gouge his eyes with fingers. His breathing like a racehorse, the man adamant to fight him back. 

"Sweetheart, stay away from him!" His mother's words were a white noise inside his dizzy head. His conscious mind was emptied, regret carved behind his dull, unseeing eyes. He couldn't condone how he fought alone with no one by his side. 

Yuuri's body held more strength than anticipated, his muscles were well developed and lean, furthermore he ate well to gain energy between studying and practicing on the rink. That meant that he had the power to shove the man to the ground, however, his heart was too kind to let him hurt someone else, even at the state of being inadequate. 

"Get off me, you littleー" The man indeed dominated by tackling Yuuri to the ground when he at least expected, serving a slap in his face. His father and Mari, his older sister, proceed to get the man off their little Yuuri, who kicked his legs sulkily in attempt to change their positions, tears glittering in his eyes. 

Fights are nothing like the exaggerated illustration in moviesー you are incapable to continue after the first few minutes. The adrenaline didn't allow Yuuri to even grumble in agony, nothing could comprehend how inferior he felt under the control of pain. His upper body and torso were aching with sharp discomfort from the wight of the older over him, head woozy. 

With the corner of his eye, he saw his skates carelessly thrown at the ground. Before anyone could do anything, Yuuri grabbed one of his skates and forcefully stabbed it into the man's skull. The flesh opened instantly, a pool of merlot liquid covering the floor. Yuuri could only hear his family's panicked shouts, sending the heavens scowling, after being abruptly, even violently pushed backwards by the intruder. 

His sister already grabbed the knife from the man's hand, Yuuri pushed the delusional body off himself which caused the burglar to stumble backwards and hit his head into something hard, losing consciousness. 

"Oh my God, Yuuri, are you okay?!" He heard his sister yell, grasping his shoulders. Notwithstanding, the younger lost his ability to breathe, to contemplate, lost in the drying blood over his clothes. 

"M-Mari, heー" Yuuri sputters overwhelmed as his father rushed to check in unmoving figure. Did Yuuri kill him? His father sighed in relief when his unyielding chest slightly raised, weak pulse on his wrist. If it depended on them, they'd show no mercy to the intruder who put Yuuri on tranquilizers for the forthcoming years. Daunted, faint-hearted knight whose thoughts never stopped racing. 

After a day, Yuuri already knew the name of the intruderー Michele Crispino. 

The younger didn't sleep for a few consequent nights, besides a bloody nose and shattered glasses, he could be sentanced if that man died. How did Yuuri, the studios and ambitious Yuuri, in a pure attempt to defend himself, almost end the life of another human being? Nagging scenario, paranoia, appalled and insecure, Yuuri's world morphed that similar, wintery night. 

The days passed by agonizingly slow. Time escapes or stayed completely still for Yuuri's constant regrets. His family endeavored to communicate with him and offer their loved son and brother a little bit of comfort and reassurance. The most crucial and tragic event that took aback everyone was when the police announced the true identity of the man. 

Michele Crispino was a heir of a famous mafia family in Europe. 

Why he was here in Japan, however, stayed unresolved. 

_

Victor is placidly looking at the sobbing figure, tranquilizers spilled around the bed. After all, the man who Victor almost killed, was innocent. He curses, hissing unintelligible Russian curves under his breath, almost delivering a slap to his face. Hurt, touched and probably scared to even speak. 

Innocence is a virtue that holds insanity. He reflected on the pills around him, allowing the boy searching redemption, a way to pay his debt, to lay in his arms and run his roots deep in the older's embrace. Fingers scratching his hair, kisses wiping his tears, hands holding the other's tightly. As chilly snowflakes of affliction and bitterness, Victor's tears rolled down his flawless skin, red like the lofty, crumbling remains of leaves embellishing the alleys. 

"Yuuri, you haven't done anything wrong. You protected yourself from a potential danger, you saved your family!" Victor solemnly announced. "There is nothing to feel guilty about, солнышко." 

Yuuri looked at Victor with another set of tears burning his skin, lips trembling with long held emotions. 

"Mari, my sister, is very mad. I can understand her to some extentー" 

"No," Victor waved his hand demonstratively. "Yuuri, if it wasn't for you, something very bad would have happened already," Victor assured, his hands embracing Yuuri's face, stroking his puffy eyelids and cheeks before pulling him into a bone crashing hug. Pecks places gently over Yuuri's eyelids, down to his wrists where he had marks and mere scars. 

"Victor, I won't ever forgive myself if that man comes close to you," Yuuri professes, hand running through Victor's hair. "What if you are in danger?" Yuuri cried, causing Victor to tighten his grip around Yuuri's shoulders, lips pressed into his temple. 

"He didn't know that we are related. He is currently working for a man called JJ. There was a journalist called Emil who me and Christophe found tortured and killed yesterday," Yuuri trembled at the statement, but Victor didn't let go of the hug, warmth seeping through his hands. He almost hummed, leaning to stroke his face. 

"Is it where you found the note?" Victor nodded at Yuuri's neck, still collecting his thoughts. 

"Yuuri, what happened eventually after the accident?" Victor inquires. 

"Michele went into coma," Yuuri's eyelashes timorously blinked. "I remember that the press went mad about the case. I didn't intend to mess my family's business, so the best decision I could bear was to leave abroad. I was put on tranquilizers for those days. And here i'm, in Russia."

Victor was utterly astounded how much he didn't know about his significant one. Yuuri had embarked on a new chapter of his life that most likely changed him. It heightened Victor's curiosity even moreー What was Yuuri like in high school? How much of russian does he know? Is there something major within his reason and choices that told him more about his personality? 

"Victorー" He didn't notice the younger's bashful reaction. "Quit staring at me. It doesn't feel right." 

He took Yuuri's free hand and with a tender gesture kissed his fingers before resting his palm directly above his heart. The quick thumping beneath Yuuri's hand and Victor's affectionate expression were some dear reminders of his profound and eternal love. Yuuri's mouth hangs opened in awe by quickening rhythm, sitting closer to the other man before running his trembling and insecure fingers through the smoky silver locks of Victor's hair, paying special attention to the thin parts that turned to be rather sensitive. 

"Пожалуйста, не плачь." Victor cooes softly, asking the other not to cry. He shouldn't. Angels should never shed a tear, no matter what. 

"Victor, I love you." Victor lost s shred of his mind at the words. 

"I love you even more, лапочка." Victor's voice drips with sweetness and possessiveness, as he could scarcely hold the urge to wrap Yuuri in unconditional amount of love and then devour it. Yuuri protected himself a few years back which led him to live in guilt, when he in fact did nothing more than saving his life. Another good reason for Victor to find that man and make sure he pays for the condition his lover was in. 

_

Yurio was torn whether he should firstly contact his best friend or his boss. It was an acute problem that cropped up in the middle of the night while he was running errands and collecting money from gangster groups in the region. The teenager was distracted due to the lack of sleep and food different than syringes and pills, however, he remarked on the presence that was after him.

He changed his direction multiple times, afraid that he might lost his way again, sliding his skinny frame between a gap of two buildings. 

He could perceive the other figure warily following him from distance, loosing his clues when he found that little gloomy corner to cover himself. His sized indeed helped. 

He pulled his phone typing a quick message. 

・we've got a company (:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Пожалуйста, не плачь" would mean "I'm sorry, don't cry." i'm trying to correlate the translation from my native language, which is pretty similar to Russian.
> 
> Feel free to contact me through my Instagram or simply comment here :)
> 
> My Instagram username: dark_nikiforov
> 
> Link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	12. Sweet and Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Victor admired the highly insightful words of unexpressed vulnerability. Destiny connected two opposites into a venturous game of survival where they had only each other as an anchor to keep them steady and grounded amidst the stormy oceanー that yet, burnt their lungs with suffocating terror of losing each other. They haven't had enough time to sit and get to know each other's weaknesses, preferences, little habits and demons."
> 
> Yuuri wants to offer a distraction for Victor, but later on, the day doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome the the madness again! Enjoy this chapter :)

Chris set the emptied glass of liquor on the glass table, after thirstily licking the last drops of the searing chardonnay. Green, guileful eyes swathed in the light from the old fashioned banquet lamp set beside him, legs crossed.

"Christophe, our alliance is peculiarly delectable, don't you think? I'm pleased to cooperate with someone as eager as you," The voice that wrecked the mervelous stillness was cunning and devious. Sharp and unexpectedly deep, the owner was a tall Canadian man with disturbingly artificial smile and aglow greedy stare. 

"JJ," Chris tuttens, using his hand to rub his chin absentmindedly. "Only a fool would decline such an invitation. After all, things are turning into personal matters."

The other faked another smile, pulling a bottle to copiously refill Chris's glass. The Switzerland man's throat was ignated with gluttony and uneasiness as he drinks again, it surely burns but he didn't mind losing his sobriety in the elixir of material negotiation. 

"I doubt you could get away with your traitorous acts towards the Bratva syndicate," Chris listens carefully. "I was certain you'll end behind the bars of Moscow's elite prizon with some help from Feltsman. I'm impressed by your skills, as well." 

Chris absorbs the mocking, rather assaulting words, just before he relished the compliment that follows. He sighed, nodded obediently and remained quiet. 

"You've underestimated my status and overall power. But to be honest, it will be a pain to catch your main targetー Nikiforov doesn't break without a fight. And wars against him are an ensured way to pass hell's gates." Victor was prowess enough to handle his own wars. 

But Chris's vulnerability bloomed, hectic at the weaponless fight hereーthe poison of wit and the sharpness of his tongue, free from physical abuse. Fetching bruises around his clavicle bones that didn't unnoticed. 

JJ laughs throaty, his suit stinking of cigarette smoke and sweaty flesh. Chris drinks from the sinful chalice of oblivion, a slew of obscene sounds coming from the gurgling, rapid slurping from the glass. How apt. His head throbs in unison with the wind tapping on the window. 

"I don't have anything personal towards Nikiforov," JJ reassures. "The dilemma is between me and Feltsman. Methodically, his protege is the quickest way to grab his finances."

"You may manipulate me, but that won't happen with them," JJ's smile grew wider at the warning. 

"Chris, don't make me remind you why you are here. There are some precious people to you, waiting to see their Christophe in Switzerland, and here is me willing to take my credit for the money that the Bratva took from my family." Chris knitted his eyebrows at the sardonical words. JJ's family was the typical business figurating name in Canadaーpeople with no dignity, integrity or respect. They stole everything avidly, eating from other's life to indulge themselves.

But even Chris who was no longer innocent, had the bravery to sacrifice his own life, in order to keep his guiltless parents and relatives out of trouble. He was previously a prostitute, hitman and whatnot. A shame for the people who raised him to be a beautiful man, expected to bring them happiness. We all have our achilles tendon, but Chris blindly believes that the alcohol could make him forget all those weak spots that burdened him. 

"I take your silence as agreement," JJ finally spoke, pulling a picture from a red folder and handling it to Chris. "Someone you know?"

Chris skimmed through the bad quality picture. The only conclusion he could make was that the woman depicted was an Asian with almost dangerous expression. 

"No," He shook his head apologetically. "I really haven't seen that woman before."

"As expected. Her name is Mari Katsuki." Chris blinked indifferently a few times before correlaton hit him. He immediately looked back at the picture, now reaching for resemblance, hoping, praying, that there will be none. The name rings in his head again as he sighed, at the end of his tether. 

"Nikiforov is an idiot, " He slapped his forehead, hitching his breath, body sprawled over the stool. 

"He isn't. A man I'm cooperating with has a personal matters to solve with a member of the Katsuki family."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mari Katsuki is part from Yakuza."

What?

Chris grew anxious and eager. It welled in his stomach, nausea and fear. 

"Mari Katsuki ran little deals ever since she was in high school. She had an intimate relationship with a member, and unfortunately sank in debts that caused her to steal from her own parents." Chris nods, throat clenching dryly.

"Is her brother related to Yakuza?"

"No. The boy's worst crime was probably being late for school. Neither him, nor their family, are aware of her private relations. She is exactly the one who ran the local Yakaza's errands, but her family got involved when my man, Michele Crispino, intruded their family inn."

"Slow down," Chris focused his gaze on the grim blackness of the night, his face flushing from the intoxicating drink. He took another sip in attempt to forget the baffling explanations. That was the most twisting cliffhanger in his whole career and everyone held secrets that worsen the story. He felt interior, his ears reddening, the other caught a strong wiff of the flowery cologne. "What should I do? Victor's new pet has nothing to do with the mafia. He had no idea how his sister made her profit for God sake! Should I spy him?"

"Nothing like this," JJ teased taunting. "My man has a friend called Emil. A little journalist who is willing to do everything for the cheap thrill of fame. He recently returned from Moscow."

"What do I have to do with this?" Chris berated himself for not being patient, sweat darted his forehead. 

"I need you to murder Emil. I will give you his address. After you kill him, leave a note that is meant to scare the mafia businessman a little bit. Afterwards, take Victor and inspect the apartment. Act natural as if you have nothing in common, Nikiforov shouldn't find the whereabouts of his body, before you take them. That's our secret, Christophe, isn't it?"

"Just to scare him..." The words died on Chris's lips. The most exasperating fact is that he was pursued to murder just to startle someone with a heart of ice. He smirked under the heavy glare of the dominating man in the room, shutting his eyes with remorse. "I will do as you order. Notwithstanding, you need to tell me something. What exactly is the true purpose of this? Katsuki is innocent, he has nothing to do with his sister." 

"The purpose is, Christoph," JJ leans closer, sickening Chris's entire body, terrifying him witless. "That Nikiforov will get into a trap obediently, without us even trying." 

_

Victor's exquisite preferences generally led him to take his lover in expensive restaurants. The aura of such deluxe and vain places intrigued him. Nevertheless, his encounters around the typical 'fancy' facilities where a man with his reputation could be found, certainly triggered his peace. From gruesome images of people in the jaws of death. Taking a last, prolonged wheeze while drowning in the depths of Victor's merciless, violent, maniacal gaze, they fell in the eternal bloodlust cravings of one dangerous man. 

That didn't stay unnoticed by his partner, the Japanese would apply cold compress on the older's forehead to ease his unrelenting migraine. He encouraged Victor to get adequate rest every single evening. The older would built a nest in Yuuri's warm embrace and let the ambient sounds of the night and his lover's steadily rising chest to soothe his distress. He already knew Yuuri's breathing patina, when he was anxious, ratllimg breaths of exhaustion of in deep slumber. He appreaciated every gesture of tendernessー but that wasn't enough for the Japanese who found a better solution. 

Victor couldn't argue when he was taken by his lover to one of the most heart-warming locations in the whole Saint Petersburg. In striking contrast with the chilling, white air, hovering over the lonely streets, the little bakery was huddled between two old-fashioned buildings. The idea has came with a snap of Yuuri's fingers and his puppy like countenance almost brought the older a heart attack. 

"Yuuri," The Russian's face almost formed a pout that bizarrely suited him. "What are we doing here?" 

"What do you think, Vitya?" Yuuri's eyes scrunched with mirth, a beam lighting his pale face. He was like a splintered light, a distant sun that warmed Victor's melting needy heart. What worried him was that Yuuri set himself on fire to keep Victor warm, and he won't even a thousand years, let his lover burn. 

Victor huffed a little laugh when the warmth tickled his rosy cheeks. The overpowering honey, nutty scents of freshly baked sweets spoilt the older's noses. It wasn't only appetizing, but homely. The elusive, subtle scent of the flowers inside made the whole composition ideal, elegant and delicate, that place held more charm and glory than the most luxurious facility the Nikiforov's family owned. 

Since it was particularly empty, they could sit right next to the windows that stretched down to the floor. Victor's eyes blazed with fascination, the cold icy blue iris unreadable today. 

"Yuuri, do you have any knowledge over flowers?" Victor questioned with high voice, exited to touch the fragile ones placed in pots next to the window. 

"Not really," Yuuri laughed, blush spreading across his cheeks as he rubbed hands together for warmth. "Any of them catched your eye?" Victor nodded, observing the plants. Some he would describe as snowdrops or jasmine, typical wintery plants that require care to bloom and emerge. 

"They all look stunning, солнышко. As gentle as you. How could I pick from so many pretty flowers, when they all represent you." Victor wasn't wrong, the abrupt compliment got Yuuri's heart bloom with something softer and more graceful than the little petals of the flowersーthat Victor explored with unquenchable interest by touching them with colloused fingertips. Yuuri had never witnessed something as pure and child like. 

"Vitya, you are the one who uses my chest as a pillow in the morning and hums absentmindedly until I don't fall asleep, " Yuuri smiles, taking their order. For a brief moment, he wishes to buy Victor a bouquet of flowers every single day, just to make him happy. Victor was celestial to the younger. "You are the one who should be compared to something as beautifulー even though it can't describe what I see." 

Victor's blush spreads faster than blood in water. He listens to the mellow sizzles of the top layer of his coffee, bitter and plain as usual. For a good ten minutes he is engrossed by the looming form of the half-sickle moon and the pastel shade of the clearing sky. The weather is chilly, droplets of the remaining rain still rolling down the damp window. 

"Victor, try mine!" Yuuri took Victor out of his preoccupied thoughts, handing him the hot chocolate. The sweetness eagerly replaces the smoky, woody sharpness of the black coffee heating his mouth. "Isn't it amazing?" Yuuri wiggled his shoulders, taking Victor's cup. 

"Yuuriー" Victor laughed when the other had whipped cream melting on the corner of his mouth. He reached to wipe it and kiss his innocent husband's knuckles lovingly. "Is there a reason why you insisted on us coming here?" He questions, holding Yuuri's hand, rubbing the skin there. 

"I thought you might like itー" Yuuri mumbled, glasses fogged up. 

"No, no, любовь моя! What matters regardless the place, is your company, and that makes the afternoon special," Victor truly appeared to be a lovesick man, who was wrapped around his significant one's pinkie. Who wouldn't? He was cuddled into a creme colored sweater, frizzy locks of hair moist with the morning drizzle. A picture of Victor in his wallet to bring coziness. 

"It was one of the first places I learnt when I came in Russia. It's very evocative, introverted and cute. One of the few locations around where I could study in total silence, besides the few polite smiles I exchanged with the old woman who works here," Victor nods sympathetically, reaching to squeeze Yuuri's hand that he hasn't let go for the past hour.

"Does something dark from before enter your mind when you are here?" Victor questioned. 

"Yes." 

"You seemed quite enchanted by the place, you didn't show any sign of doubt earlier." 

"Because you make the difference, Victor... " Yuuri's eyes aesthetically matched the cocoa colors of their drinks. As intelligent, gallant and compassionate as always, they wrapped Victor in security from distance. "Nothing that held any value to me mattered after I came here. Aside from the little inspiration my simple life could offer, I had only hopefulness to vent at such quiet places. Everything meaningful was shattered into obscurity." 

Victor admired the highly insightful words of unexpressed vulnerability. Destiny connected two opposites into a venturous game of survival where they had only each other as an anchor to keep them steady and grounded amidst the stormy oceanー that yet, burnt their lungs with suffocating terror of losing each other. They haven't had enough time to sit and get to know each other's weaknesses, preferences, little habits and demons. 

"There is something that disturbs me, Yuuri, " Victor played with his heated mug, stale taste of milk and sugar drying his mouth. "The most crucial and scary thing of our relationship is that I have to somehow repay you for your eternal care." 

Yuuri's heart leaps. 

"Vitya, you don't own me a thing, my love. Your happiness is everything I need in return," Yuuri states, taking Victor's gloved hands to press a protective peck on Victor's fingers. "It is a honour for me to take care of you." 

Victor smiles, stroking Yuuri's cheek as he leans to connect their lips together, kissing his lover passionately, tasting the lovely sweetness of his tongue. Warm and safe. 

"You are so cute, дорогой. I was afraid of not being able to give you the single thing you want from meーmyself. I had to take my position seriously ever since I was taken in the Bratva, every matter was urgent, everything besides my well-being." 

Yuuri meticulousy listened to the familiar story of hidden secrets. Bloodlust revolving around money and reputation. His lover was indeed tactical, with a sleight of hand, experienced enough to make the death itself a fairy tale. Yuuri's stomach churches with repulse, staring into the man who seemed so distant sometimes. 

Yet, he had no intentions to let him go. He didn't understand the mechanism of that criminal syndicate and he refused to allow Victor into the world of greed. He went through a pack of starved wolves, buckling down for years. Yuuri was grateful that Victor was here to be adored. 

"The only thing that my heart aspires is to help you find that person which you can't see. A good man who has a whole life ahead of him to fulfill. And I long to be the person you share that life with." Victor's low gasp was heard. His lover's voice had a strain to it, in attempt to keep it steady.

"Любовь моя," Victor cooes with mellow tone. "Please forgive me for the things I made you experience. You should have never gotten involved with my business to begin with." 

"I've seen worse," Yuuri reassures and orders some sweets that catched his eye from the entrance. Those subtle moments of taking full lead made Victor's poor heart crumble and thump quickly. He was madly enamored, even if it might cost his life. Yuuri unveiled the mysterious figure that the whole Russian fears, coarse and dangerous, and the beast he saw, was a little cowering child that struggled to escape. 

To escape. They, after all, had something in common. 

Besides the innocent mask of hidden affection they long to give. The sinner was a faint, whose hands, despite being layered with stinking blood, are opened wide to offer something that is called sympathy. A goodnight kiss sent to the sparkly stars that held no meaning besides wrecking solitude, until you didn't find a soul that has always been your shadow, breathing, fighting and longing under the same night void. 

The romantic state between the two was interrupted by Victor's phone ringing. 

"It's Yakov," Victor stated hastily pressing the device to his ear, the idea of Yakov's hoarse tone causing his muscles to visibly tense. 

After the quick conversion, Victor sighed with hassled. 

"Yuuri, I have no clue what Yakov meant by that, but he insists on seeing you," Yuuri's eyes didn't convey his puzzlement, absently analyzing. "We will be careful, да? Everything will be okay." 

_

"we've got a company (:" 

Otabek didn't appreciate Yurio's taunting messages in the middle of the night. They held no meaning, anxiety or panic, as if the teenager could make a joke out of an act as gruesome and cruel as a murder. Perhaps it was because of his youthful spirit, which couldn't be caged or affected by the darkness. Young people saw some sort of light through the despair. 

After that evening they immediately contacted Yakov to bestow him the little souvenir the rival's spy left. Plisetsky got followed for more than half an hour, and unfortunately his grumpy mood took the worst of him when he mindlessly shouted at the man walking behind him.

The younger's instincts and high intuition gave him an instant reactionー he used the knife he had underneath his oversized clothes in order to cause damage. He firstly stomped his foot over the man's feet, heartlessly and precisely finding the man's carotid artery. Slightly over four centimeters stab made the other flinch before heavily bleeding to death. 

What concerned Yakov wasn't the fact that Yurio felt underwhelmed by his position in the mafia, which was the bottom tier of the syndicate, or by the fact that the teenager had sex with the assassinー Otabek Altin. 

What intrigued him was the little briefcase that the man carried. Practical and lightー you wouldn't anticipate anything heavier than an extra pistol to be inside. In reality, the contend was cryptical and hard not to appear suspicious. 

A dozen of cheap drugs in little packages that leaked in the whole briefcase, pictures of a woman in an envelope with a note left in Japanese. 

_

"What is it, лапочка?" Victor comforted, his hand around Yuuri's shoulder as they sat in the chestnut leather seats. Yakov's warehouse was specious place, bare and moreover deprived of any tastefulness. Scarlet red curtains dropped to the floor throwing a shade over half of the office, an old lamp located next to a disorganized pile of documents and a box of smokes. 

Amidst the rumpled books and documents stood an old man who stared at the humbly, almost uncomfortably curled Japanese, stabbing his soul with a derelict gaze. 

"Victor, I warned you," Yakov hurried to critisize. "Someone will get hurt, but as much as it concerns me, I don't want that 'someone' to be our business." 

"Shut your mouth for a moment!" A shout slipped from Victor's throat in attempt to defend his lover, that almost challenged the older to stand from his throne and take a step forward, fist around Victor's throat. 

Fortunately, right there, Yuuri finally spoke. 

"That seems interesting." Yakov's eyes widened, arms crossed in front of his chest. The coffee on the desk was most likely cool and bleak by now. 

"What is it, Yuuri? Did you find something love? It's alright, you are alright. Please tell us." Victor impatiently pledges, hand gripping the Japanese's shoulder, the elaborated symbols illustrated on the paper reflecting in his glasses. 

"Yes, that is indeed in Japanese."

"What is your relation to the woman on the picture attached?" Yuuri's eyes moved to the pinned picture, bitterness filling his mouth, heart swelling with shame. 

"That is... My sister. Mari Katsuki." Yakov's tight-lipped smile tensed Victor's muscles additionally, causing him to death glare back at the older mobster. Yakov was receptive and recognised the wrath in Victor's possessiveness. 

"What does the note say?" Yakov inquired. 

"The grudge of your jealousy, the consequences of your gluttony and lust are going to demolish you when they meet together between the earth and hell." Yuuri translated with doubt. Something indeed downtrodden him, however, was it really his place here to do something that he wasn't ordered? Was it anxiety and steer fear that disturbed him? 

"What does it mean? Does it hold any specific meaning in Japanese?" 

"Yuuri. Go out of the room and leave us alone for a moment," Yakov's teeth greeted, his perpetually angry face frowning even deeper. "Get something to drink and give us a moment. Do that for me, да?" 

There was no doubt for the Russian that Yuuri is innocentー his purity was frank, subconscious and gentle. He couldn't allow someone who defended himself to carry the chains of remourse, while dating someone whose hands bleed from the familiar rope. 

"I know what it meansー" Yuuri splutters whilst forming his words. "It's a riddle." 

"Riddle?" Victor's eyes widened. 

"Ah?" Yakov shared a similarly reaction as his protege. 

"I cannot guarantee how logical it might be, but according to my methods and practice, criminals are prone to symbolism. They leave a signature to hint their next step, especially is they look down to the rivalー" 

"Slow down," Yakov waved a hand. "Practice?" 

"He is specializing with phychology." Victor explains briefly, clenching Yuuri's pale hand for his own comfort. 

"Sir, I'm afraid that whoever is intruding your territory has nothing to do with me, or at least with Yakuza. It's only a theory, but they are likely to use innocent people to lure the mafia." Yuuri states, resting in his chair. 

"You mean as a bait?" Yuuri nodded hectically. 

"I don't know if it is connected, but both of the notes, this one and an insignificant treat from before, are written in pretty bad Japanese." 

"Continue." 

"I doubt that this is written by a native speaker, it has grammatical, lexical mistakes and the sentence structure is totally messed," Yuuri scratched the back of his neck. "Goes without saying that whoever wrote that had no clue what they wrote." 

"How did you recognize it as a riddle then?" The old man scoffed. 

"What is the place where your jealousy and lust meet?" Yakov looked aside for a second, vexed and sweltered. 

"You anticipate me to play a game and answer a riddle?!" Yakov's voice was truly hazardous and thick of husk when he understood the implication in the words. "You've got a nerve, Katsuki." 

"House of Envy." Yuuri interrupted the agitated tantrum, looking directly into Victor's eyes that anticipated to meet his for an eternity. He quickly strokes his lover's cheek, peering from under his lashes. 

"What about 'House of Envy', дорогой?" Victor's mouth hung opened, trying to acknowledge the other's logic and clarify his vision. He was uncanny, out of the box thinker that had more potential analyzing people's reasons and behavior in his finger than the whole crime syndicate ever will. 

"He said 'place of jealousy, gluttony and lust' somehow I can only think of 'House of Envy'. I look from his perspective, and if the club is the place where those sins meet it will be his next target." 

"Your opinion is that he will attack the bar 'House of envy', isn't it?" Yakov relaxed by leaning back, absently looking at the misty windows, raindrops studding the glass with coldness. 

"Yes," He just now noticed the wonderment in Victor's large azure eyes. "The pathetic notes he leaves are meaningless and irrational treats to innocent people. I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't me, it would be Phichit, who is the other one unrelated." 

"Yuuri, do you claim that this man, whoever it is, concentrates on the business of the Bratva? Yura could be in eminent danger."

"Yes. but there is something else." 

He savored the silence and solemnity that spread in the air. He contemplated over something that never crossed his mindー is it a noble deed that he uses his abilities and experience to divulge criminals? In the world of terror itself? 

Perhaps, he wasn't completely ready to enter the law system, hence he had something more significant in mindー transform into Victor's savior and gift him with love. 

"Yakov, there must be someone who embarked on this. Someone who is standing behind the little afterthoughts of their crimes, someone suspicious." His voice isn't low. 

"Katsukiー"

"Someone who sorted out the meeting between me and Victor. Because I'm sure now, he initially wanted him to meet with Phichit who is the other 'innocent' one. Someone who could organize it and furthermore, leave the damn notes!" 

Victor's eyes are feral, dripping with madness and insanity. He just remembered the person who was already suspicious after lying to have been entrapped. 

Christophe Giacometti. 

The servant with enticing exterior which guaranteed him a position as a seducer and part-time manager. If you replay the tape from the very beginning, he is the person who arranged Victor to seach for Phichit. The one beside Victor to bring his attention to the note next to Emil's body. His activity has been rather unrevealed and darkー the Russian concluded with heavy grief and worry, a familiar limp of dejection choking him. 

Yakov nodded as he looked at Victorー those intense years of their life was sustained, as if it continued for centuries. Like a father and son, related not by their own blood, but by other's spilled one, like crimson ink over a blank sheet. The silence was enough for them to confirm.

Yuuri just revealed Christophe's betrayal and Victor couldn't contain his anguish. 

"We know..." He said. "We know who is it Yuuri. We do." 

"Don't you dare even think about guilt tripping yourself, Vitya." Yuuri wrapped his hand over his lover's slightly trembling shoulders to press him into a safe placeー as if he wanted to bundle him in security. How far could Yuuri reach to protect Victor from his own past mistakes and save his dignity. 

"Yuuriー" Victor muttered just to be interrupted by Yuuri's soothing, yet stern sweet nothings. 

"Everything is alright, we are here together, that matters. We'll get it sorted out. I promise." 

And now when they had a theory, without a backbone of proofs, enormous changes set out into their lifes like a January hail gale. Yuuri was proud, not by having his nose to the brimstone as a student, but by the fact that his Victor is alright. He didn't need to be a criminal or a heroーjust a simple human being is enough. 

Victor Nikiforov was like waxーit's easy to press together even when destroyed. Scented, holding a smell that fits your aura. Erotic, flexible, his personality went through hell and survived to meet Yuuri. If the wax is hot, but , it will stick to your skin and ruthlessly smolder it. 

Yuuri wanted that fire to burn him. 

He wanted it all. 

"Victor," Yuuri began. "I have a suggestion." 

"What is it, Yuuri?" Victor tiredly mumbled. 

"We're going to Japan. We can go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a wild chapter indeed! Cliffhangers, new people and even more outrageous schemes are coming! Exciting things are yet to come so be prepared for the big climax of the action. I'm looking forward to showing you! As they go to Japan, the fluff will quickly become angst, and someone might get kidnapped. Not one person as a matter of fact :Ь
> 
> Hope my english isn't too terrible, excuse any nonsensical mistakes :D
> 
> Please, feel free to leave a comment if you are enjoying the story so far, I respond to all comments as well as messages on my Instagram. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> My Instagram username: dark_nikiforov 
> 
> Link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	13. Bouquet Of Treachery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor smiles, musing, spacing absently through the window, savoring the softness of Yuuri's skin as he hugged the older. Another tender kiss followedーVictor's citrus breath imprinting Yuuri's mouth. He didn't even catch a glimpse of Yuuri's large eyes that timidly peered from his long eyelashes, he was busy to kissーraw and breathless, hands searching to touch and worship.
> 
> The bouquet is crimson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the madness again :)

One thing Victor didn't assume about his lover is how unreadable he could be, even appear antagonistic to other people. He was a true stubborn even in his heartache, even in dire times, and rarely could vent in front of his beloved one without guilt leaving him sleepless for days straight. Whereas, without Yuuri's bouquets, richly purple orchids, snowy pale roses and bashful tulips, Victor's city of bones, that unyielding game of masquerade, would still be bleak and desolated. Even Saint Petersburg's grim streets wouldn't be as bright without Yuuri's colours, without the cryptic yet magnificent smile over his face. 

Yuuri knew about Victor's occupation, a way before the older even explained himself. The charade built around his otherwise collected personality, hid the ideal machine for the business. Yuuri's blood would roar at the irrational thoughtsーthat perhaps Victor was an demon or exorcist himself, living a deathless verdict between the thin line of rationality and the netherworld's madness. His ocean eyes can go numb faster that the click of his clifflinks. 

Here the city went silent again. 

"Absolutely beauty is something that people don't own Yuuri, but I assure you that us, demons, don't too."

Yuuri was clever and sharp-eyed for the details beyond Victor's marble-hewn face and crystal lustrous eyes. No one should look the way Victor didーthe wrathful grimace, the tight-lipped smirk, the ruby red chain of secrets around his neck. Victor's screams for help were a litany. Silly Victor, he thought that Yuuri won't spot the bullet holes over his coat that had nothing in common with cigarette burns, the limited watch on his wrist, the reputation he had, the eyes people laid on Yuuri after seeing him with Victor. As if he was dirty with something cloaked in mystery. 

Subtle signs that everyone with a highly developed intuition will recognize, especially someone is is fiercely trying to show you sympathy. 

They both saw the worst in each other's demeanor. Yuuri had stayed countless times to scrub Victor's skin from the rough, tinted scent of blood and hold his quivering hand with reassurance. 'You aren't a killer', 'none of this is your fault', 'we are going to be alright', Yuuri would repeat while imprinting his scent over Victor's body and pressing loving pecks everywhere until the older didn't cry his eyes out on Yuuri's bare chest. There is a tremble that Yuuri could soothe, even if he paid with the heat of his own long held tears. The bouquet hasn't always been a beautiful, tasteful composition of creamy flowers, sometimes it was neglected plants from Yuuri's soul. Victor went through a storm where he was pressured to be homeless, become skeptical, but never weak. Oh, if a regular human even had a drop if Victor's experience they'd be mentally impaired by now. Fortunately, Yuuri was strong enough to fight his own wars, but not strong enough to stay away from the person he loved unconditionally. God, his heart wouldn't handle the world without that man weeping in his embrace, his mind couldn't even seize this horrific thought.

Respectively, Yuuri needed someone to bring him back to reality when his imagination played the worst scenarios on repeat in his head. Salty tears that dried over his entire face, hitching breaths of choking sobs, agonizing fear of being with one foot into your grave. Every single constellation and moon phase had witnessed Yuuri's confessions of lovesickness. With Victor's bare skin under his touch, contrasting pale shade with the vermilion red madness in his heart, the deep sapphire intelligence in his eyes, the steady rise of his chestーit all gave Yuuri a reason to never let his guard down. But right here, in the nest of their feelings and mutual vulnerability, he didn't need to be brave just for once. All he had to do was to hold his most precious and sweet human closer to his woeful heart.

_

"I understand, is there something I can settle from here?" 

Yuuri entered the tiny room by sliding the door, just to see Victor in his old bed, dressed in green robe. The wrinkled sheets looked silky under the morning sun, Victor's negligee silver hair poking from the covers. 

The older was talking over the phone with an intense glare to the wall. The younger's lips immediately curved upwards into a smile of gratitudeーthat his family was in euphoria to see him again, that they were safe and sound. Another wave of warmth rushed through his face when he sat next to his lover. 

He hurried to press a kiss on the side of Victor's neck, right over his steadily pounding heart, just to swathe the older with the robe, his arms wanton around Victor's fine waist. He rubbed small circles over his beloved one's clothes, nose nuzzling under Victor's lobe. He barely holds himself from pushing the hot drink in Victor's hands, just to settle himself properly and kiss his earlobe. 

"I see, well, if you have something new call me immediately. Don't worry about my security, Yuuri is by my side, " Yuuri sheepishly smiled, sprawling out on the bed. "До свидания." 

"It was Yakov, wasn't it?" 

"Yes. He's got some intriguing news to share. Someone stole all of the money from one of his bank accounts, how convenient." Yakov has definitely been thankful for Yuuri's major assistance, especially considering that it gave him an ace up in his sleeve. 

"Who?" 

"It's evident, детка. Some of his bank accounts are maintained by our computer specialists. A hacker could obtain your log in banking information, those are easy to identify immediately. Same goes for that case. I assume you can already figure the answer out," Victor muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Christophe?" Yuuri questioned numbly, leaning closer to press a kiss to Victor's back, and trace another gentle one to his reddening lobe. "Couldn't the police connect him to this?" Victor laughs at this. 

"Yuuri, you seriously forget who I really am sometimes," He laughs, turning to face his lover and take a quick bite of Yuuri's bottom lip, tracing his tongue over the delicate softness. "There is not a single person who can defeat me, in the whole history of the Bratva." 

"Victor," Yuuri says while breaking the kiss. "You take yourself too seriously. The man I love is a light-hearted sweetheart who adores animals, putting the top of the christmas tree, wiping the hot chocolate from my mouth and marvelously quiet evenings. I know your reputation is something I can't even imagineー" He paused. Words flow inside his head forming pure masterpieces of trust, however, he still could help but sputter while settling the race of his heart in front of Victor. "But your presence here is the most important thing. Nothing else matters, Victor." 

Before Yuuri could master his words and end his sentimental speech, Victor pressed another kiss to Yuuri's damp lips, avidly devouring the sweetness, holding his lover's hands tightly in his own. He was indeed conceited. 

"I love you, любовь моя. You are so kind to me," He chucked when Yuuri's silky hands landed on his face, cupping it while stroking the wild silver locks that hid Victor's melting eyes. For a moment, Victor's legs went weak with worry, seeing how much love Yuuri had drawn on his face. He would shower his body and spirit and whole with gasoline and burn himself to dust just to gift Victor angel wings and freedom. That terrified Victor. Yuuri had the audacity to burn in cold flames for him. 

"I love you too," Yuuri mumbled while being pressed to Victor's body, following the movement of his chest, hand in his hair. "My sister hasn't come around since I came back." 

"She ought to feel guilt. Heavy one."

"Victorー" Yuuri stopped him from stating a complain, lips sloppily pressed to Victor's into a romantic kiss, tasting the addictive taste. "Do you like it in here?" 

"I fall in love with that place a way too soon, Yuuri." The younger couldn't deny the poignant comfort of this place. He could easily break in tears just by the scent of katsudon or the steam coming from the onsen and the bath. It was so hard to put it in simple words, the blossom color that was anticipating the spring, the old swamp next to his school, the euphoria in his mother's eyes as if her son if coming back from a war. 

"My family are very understanding of the situation," He scratched the back of his head. "I'm pretty sure my sister would assist us if you tell herー" 

"No, солнышко," Victor placed a finger to Yuuri's lips, taking his right hand to place a kiss on his ring, that Yuuri gifted him for his birthday. "I prefer us to stay out of the mafia's plans at least when we are here. Could we do that?" 

And oh Yuuri would do anything in a heartbeat for Victor. He would gladly become mendicant or sell his soul to the north hail winds just to set Victor's free. He enthusiastically nodded at the Russian, wrapping his slender hands around Victor's neck and tackling him into his bed. At this, he positioned his head in the muddle of Victor's chest, pressing himself impossibly closer, as if their body could become one. 

"Yuuriー" 

"Don't move, you are warm," Yuuri protested, stern grip that kept Victor wrapped in Yuuri's affection, pressed to the safest placeーto his chest, in a bone crashing embrace. Oh if Victor didn't squirm, Yuuri would have fallen asleep at broad daylight. 

It was funny how lips grew eager and grunted as they traced over Victor's scars, worshiping every little blemish that discolored his skin, kissing them until they came to nothing. Victor would playfully steal his glasses, rims hanging from his right hand, allowing the japanese to sleep on his chest with drool glistening the corner of his lips, soft snores crashing against Victor's bare skin. 

"What shall we do for new year?" Victor asked amidst the prolonged silence as they cuddled. Christmas has passed, with Victor's simple celebration of his birthday with Yuuri. 

"As long as we are here, I don't mind anything." 

"Do you fear something?" Victor questions. 

"Not reallyー" 

"Солнышко," A sudden gasp of Victor's lungs called Yuuri while he stroked Yuuri's back again, tracing his thumb over Yuuri's cheek. He knew Yuuri's expression and reactions like a map. And the scent of his lover's distress was indeed afflicting. "What could go wrong? I'm right here." 

"Even when I feel the holsters, weapons, the vest and everything you carry underneath your clothes while working is a relief. I can't get enough of you Victor, I beg you to stay forever. No matter how muchー" 

"No one will come near us," Yuuri was indeed one of the most fascinating things Victor had seenー like an ancient library smothered in candle light, his personality consisted of thousand books that you crave to hold, read and understand. 

And no one is going to lay a finger on his Yuuri. No one. 

"I guarantee you." 

"Perhaps it was someone wise, or I came across that statement in a fairy tale book, but, it said that if two people want something, the universe will work forward their dream and make it real." 

Victor smiles, musing, spacing absently through the window, savoring the softness of Yuuri's skin as he hugged the older. Another tender kiss followedーVictor's citrus breath imprinting Yuuri's mouth. He didn't even catch a glimpse of Yuuri's large eyes that timidly peered from his long eyelashes, he was busy to kissーraw and breathless, hands searching to touch and worship. 

"What would this mean, Yuuri?" He questioned eventually, allowing his lover's hands to trace over Victor's shoulders. Hot like chardonnay, gentler than autumn rain. 

"That at night, I visualize my future with you. I take a deep breath and reach to feel your heartbeat. I connect my soul with yours, so we can always stay together even if we are separated physically."

Victor felt extremely uneducated about these matters, especially spiritual energy or feelings in general, notwithstanding, those words were dripping like honey, mending the fragments of his heart and he just leans closer to listen. The voice is dazzling, conveying the younger's worry, and even if Victor didn't quite understand it, he listened. Always. 

"That is what the rings are for," Yuuri takes Victor's unwittingly quivering hand, kissing the little snowflake engraved on it. "My soul will always be with you." 

From the bottom of his little heart, Victor believed that Yuuri could change the world just by whispering. Or move the stars. That their intimacy could unhook the moon from the night sky. 

Victor became dauntless, protectively wrapping a hand around Yuuri's lower waist, determined stare focused on the tree branches that narrowly knocked on the window. The kiss grew rough and demanding, Yuuri on the top of Victor with adorable reddening cheeks. Their promises turned into soft moans, whimpers and pleasure, Victor was under the elixir of love. Yuuri pressed some quick kisses over Victor's palms, hands guiding him to look only at his Yuuri while rolling his eyes in anticipation, breath hitching in a surge of excitement. 

"Yuuriー"

"Shh," Yuuri hushed him as they made love, touching gently, lovingly, bodies moving under the spell of their love. Rutting against each other, hearts racing, sloppy kisses over heated skin. He has indeed changed. 

He changed. 

_

It was at in front of the church of the savior on blood in Saint petersburg, during a starless white night of December, when Victor and Yuuri exchanged rings as a symbol of their loyalty. 

It was a promise to quieten their demons. Love wasn't a dagger dipped into poison, love wasn't a sin. It was the power that helped you walk on moonlight, that whispered every sweet word you needed to hear once, love is the moment where you pour everything into someone, even if it would mean to burn in searing rejection. Yuuri's love was something Victor wanted to protect from the crossfire, because the biggest nightmare the russian had, was to see the puffy snow, violently soaked with blood or let the harsh north wind blow away the trace of warmth. 

The bouquet was crimson. 

_

Michele's eyeballs could easily slip into the giant mug in front of him, staring with vengeance into the printed photographs in his hand. Such man would feel uneasy at the lack of actionー weeks with no clue around Nikiforov's activity drove him crazy. He reached the crucial point as a living human, doing nothing but planning revenge, praying for the darkest things to happen. 

The front door slammed into the wall as someone broke into the room. Michele's eyes darted wide opened with delight at the muffled screams and huffs. 

JJ was standing at the door frame triumphantly, a loaded revolver in his hand, intimidating as his brows snapped together. Beside him, two of his men were holding Christophe who already knew the horrifying verdict that followed for himーthe other man was grasping a wiggling young boy with a glint of tears in his eyes, face clouded with terror. 

"Good job, Leroy," Michele addressed JJ by his real last name, studying their victim's faces. "We shall prepare them to talk." 

JJ could only nod, slamming Chris's body on the floor, followed by the tanned male. After a grunt of pain, the swiss man proceed to talk incoherently through the rag stuffed in his mouth. 

"How rude of us!" Michele exclaimed and added a maniacal, blood-curdling laughter. "Here," He removed the soaked rag with Chris's saliva and impatiently shift his weight to his other leg. 

"Please, let him go. He is a clueless employee who can't give you any information. I'm the man you need, notー" 

"Heartwarming! I'm sick of the facade you put on that pretty face of yours, Chris. It just doesn't suit a little prostitute like you to play with fire." Chris struggled to swallow the offensive comment, gulping dryly. 

"Remind me why the younger boy is here?" JJ questioned, unfazed by Michele's little show. 

"He is going to be a great pray, yes?" Michele's voice twists with anticipation. "Feltsman shouldn't have rubbed his nose where it doesn't belong. We will make sure he pays with men and money." 

"Michele," JJ begins, exasperation scrunching his darkening eyes. Chris and the clueless hostage could almost touch the clocking tension, that could explode within seconds. "The Bratva must have a different achilles heel, it's pointless to expect someone like Feltsman to crack." 

"He is going to pay for the damage to my family and everything else. We can have the whole Russia in our feet! Leroy, I wasted so many fucking years in coma, just to forgiveー" 

"Such a pathetic imbecile," Leroy cuts him off. "My family expects me to pay for the death of my relatives, who were murdered by Feltsman's men." 

"I'm being driven by revenge to the little japanese doll Nikiforov found. The fucker is whoring himself after escaping from Japan, where that pitiable idiot ruined by life in a heartbeat, without thinking!" Christophe sensed the gasoline smell radiating from the heated argument, both of the man preparing for a bloodshed. Both him and the clueless, daunted Phichit were looking at the growing confrontation. "My reasons are valid." 

"You are a halfwit who can't even deal with a kid who sent you in a hospital," Leroy challenged the livid, blanched with rancour male. "I can only guffaw at your misery and damfool reasons." He clicked his tongue, the scent of testosterone spreading. 

He got angry at the eloquent tone. 

"Feltsman did everything for the business. His men would never lay a finger on anyone out of his dealsー the fact that your family is a group of retards who go against the mafia isn't my fault." 

JJ's gasp was cut as if someone threw a punch in his diaphragm, shaking his head with anticipation, grounding himself with the weight of the gun. 

"Bold of you to bite the hand that feeds you," JJ muttered, voice hoarse as he put emphasize on every word. With his own pace, not too fast, not too reluctant, he made his way to the kneeling male. "Keep your pretty mouth shut, Michele. We don't want you to end up like our guests today, do we? The barrel will easily go down your throat." 

Michele's eyebrows knitted in a deep frown when he acknowledged the older is humiliating him in front of the men they abducted. With a hesitant nod he abides, changing the topic. Phichit winced. 

"What did you find?" 

"Good," Leroy whispered sharply, eagerly moving to take a bag filled with money in wrinkled envelopes, some basic necessities and a ticket for Switzerland. "Someone missed his home? Ow, Christophe, how kind of you to look after your family. How disappointed they will be when the walls fall and reveal your true occupation? How would those people react to know the hands that feed them are decorated with blood, hm? "

Christophe only jolts in poor attempt to uncage his wrists from the tightened handcuffs, lip wobbling with despair when he accepted defeat in the hands of the enemy. He escaped from responsibility too many times, took numerous sides and betrayed many, in front of the gates of justice he could only pray that his loved ones won't pay for his revolting actions. 

"I had to see themー" 

"Don't play innocent, we know you spilled information in front of Feltsman. You better tell us something even more valuable if you want us to spare you." Phichit moved his legs sullenly, straggly dark hair sopped with sweat. 

"Where is Feltsman now?" JJ asked sternly. 

"Moscow." 

"What did you tell him?" 

Silence. 

"What did you tell him?" 

"Everything," Chris pleads wincing. "I told them everything because I picked a side." 

"Where is Nikiforov?" Christophe was at the threshold of death, heart pounding, Dynamic, hot and cold flashes turning his stomach. With no other option to get through, he begged every power, hell and heaven, God and the devil himself, to slice him into parts, break his backbone or torture him like they did in medieval times, but to spare those innocent. Those who never doubted their beloved son and lover, like they wouldn't doubt the warmth of the sun.

He couldn't comprehend or convey, how disappointed he was to sacrifice his innocent, to trade something so captivating and pure just to end up shattered between the ominous ruby bullets of the tit-and-tat rule. He shouldn't have compromised the only thing he thing he had left while striving for vain and excellence. 

"That little Japanese 'whore' you commented earlier," He began with low tone, the words rambling in his chest. "This 'whore' is the man who you should have killed back then when he attacked you in self defense. And you should have apologized to him family for the crime you committed. I pity youーnow he is with Victor, you are the only one who will end up dead." 

Michele's eyes are wide with condemnation, rage, victory and something unreadable that pulled the trigger instead lf him. One bullet, then another, like snowflakes crashing into freshly colored crimson snow, pulling a disturbing show of vengeance. The figure wails, emerald eyes closing with agony. If the winter in Russian is passing, the winter in his soul just began, ceasing his heart with a painful squeeze. 

Bouquet of rejection. It goes red. A deep, deep shade of red. 

He no longer fears rejection, and just regrets that thinking about fear was scarier than the actual handshaking with death itself. 

"C-Chrー" Something hard to understand comes out of Phichit's mouth who manages to encourage the other to stay with him, awake, and fight the sudden tiredness that grew like cancer within the buller wounds. A spike of pain, followed by numbness, sharp agony making Chris gurgle the blood in his throat. Phichit couldn't do much besides trying to move the other's head to the side, so it could be easier to breathe. However, he had no control, or ability to move Chris's chin or check his vitals or God, just to stop the soaking blood that grew like a dirty puddle around them. 

"Nikiforov is in Japan!" Michele cheered, pulling his phone out of his jeans. 

"Yuuri should have killed you beforeー"

"Ah, ah, I'm too irritated to deal with you too. Be a good boy and pose," Michaele's chuckle is impish, taking a picture of Chris's agony to keep breathing and Phichit's dread from the spattered blood across his pale clothes. "This beautiful picture will go to your dear little friend. Let him come to rescue you." 

"Nikiforov is a good man!" Phichit yells. "He would never hurt a soul if it wasn't someone as disgusting as you! And Yuuri isn't a fool, he won't fall into your trap." 

It was peculiar that Chris could relate to Phichit's words. Victor's intimidating and cold exterior was the only way to survive, many died on his mercy. Nonetheless, his victims were never innocentーfrom hitmans, assassins, criminals, bosses of brothels and bars and mafia family members, Nikiforov wasn't a murderer, rather than a businessman with a strong sense of justice. He murdered those who killed even more people than the bratva itself through years. 

And Chris could only sigh in gratitude for the thoughtfulness, for the moments of understanding, when Victor shouldn't have spared a traitor, but he did. Victor was sympathetic, something that could cost his head. 

'Oh, Nikiforov. I hope you won't end with a bullet in your heart, defending Yuuri just like I do now.' 

"Chris! Oh my god, Chris!" He could hear a distant cry that was perhaps the pleads and mourn of his sanity. It was hurting like nothing else he has experiencedーat least when he had a vest on. "Hang in there, thereー" The voice reassured a rag pressed to his opened wounds. "Fight it, please don't close your eyes, don't leave me alone!" 

"Send the picture to the right person, Michele." JJ said. 

"Yes, let the game begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone are having a lovely evening/day thus far, thank you for reading! I've received some feedbacks about spelling mistakes I make and other errors. Well, it happens no matter how meticulous I'm sometimes, plus I have mentioned that English isn't my native language, so it's sort of natural. There is always a room for improvement, but I highly appreciate any comments :)
> 
> Feel free to text me on my Instagram or leave a comment here, I respond to all of them! No, seriously, they mean a lot :) 
> 
> Also, Yuuri is whipped for Victor x3 also yes, the game is just about to begin. Many things will happen! 
> 
> My Instagram username: dark_nikiforov
> 
> Link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	14. Ice Tinted With Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Vicー" Yuuri cries once again before gripping Victor's shirt. "Am I a monster too?"
> 
> Victor's most altruistic act ever was to love Yuuri, and he couldn't bear lying him. However, he wasn't convinced himself, if there is an exact definition of bad amd good, after all, both of these are caused by pain.
> 
> "Why would you say such a thing?"
> 
> "Because I want him dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness again! :)

"Sir," The unfamiliar man took a sharp breath when JJ entered the room, air of solemnity around them. The man was shrewd to guess the motives behind JJ's unabashed tone. "There are two men interested to do some business with usーthey haven't confirmed officially, but I reassured them that it'll be in their interest to speak. They are both waiting at the main cellar." 

Who would assume that Jean-Jacques Leroy was obsequious? 

Considering the coy and fancy language, the man resting on the lodge sofa was relatively older, a figure we shall pay respect to, someone with irrefutable reputation. He had a mad, dripping with menace smile, big forehead, sleek silver hair, blotchy skin and golden ring with a gemstone on his pinkie. From JJ's pawky, cunning beam, it is hinted that he is deliberate and easy to cooperate with. Smoke fills the air, the scent of nicotine lingers, perhaps the man had a sinful, gluttonous addiction to smoking or other indulging activities. Who knew? 

He was JJ's and Michele's boss. 

"Everything is already settled, this time we'd be able to derive a great deal from the Bratva's protege." 

"Sir, I assure you that dealing with Victor Nikiforov will be an ordeal."

"All he knows is that you, Jean-Jacques Leroy, and the little masochist Michele are being a pain for his reputation, security and Feltsman's business in general. You did your part wellーVictor is absolutely convinced in your motives and has no clue that I guide the parade."  
For a little moment, JJ gapes with astound at the outrageous, yet clever and witty comments. 

If he wasn't at the tier of their amateur criminal group, he would have the courage to admit that this man... 

Resembles Victor Nikiforov a little bit too much. 

"It is a pleasure to operate with someone from your rank, sir," JJ's voice is hesitant. "Nonetheless, I don't know what else is expected from me. If you have everything we negotiated at the beginning, could I leave Saint Petersburg?" 

"But of course!" JJ flinched with quiver, his breath sliced as if by knife. The cadence of his voice slowed, sinister expression etching into the younger's uneasiness. "But, in point of fact, there is a little mission I'd like you to complete first." 

"I will follow your orders throughoutly." 

The man's evil grin scraped a smile across his distorted face. He was a true sadistーthat man had seen his loved ones die, get abducted or even abused and his usual respond to the debauchery was a smile of madness, his suit stained with merlot fluid. JJ was clever enough to sense his end coming, but in the pitiful days, hours of minutes he had left to live, he much preferred to connect with the darkside and allow it to help him crawl through the danger. 

One of the old drawers opened, making JJ acknowledged that in present, he was at his boss's office and listening meticulously to his instructions. A gun appeared in the man's hand, heavy, fitting in his rough hands like a second skin. 

"Michele has been causing troubles recently, hasn't he?" JJ already knew where this conversation is going.  
"He wasn't of any use, besides his meaningless aim of revenge for Victor's whore and the pathetic assistant who was of no benefit, he was a simple-minded man with unrealistic expectations for the business." That man had a linguistic talentー he just made a death treat sound like an invitation. 

"How wouldー" JJ's sentance is cut by his coughing, gagging on the sudden fear and repulse. Leroy hurried to apologize and grab the weapon, waiting for the erratic gasping from his lungs to peter out. He settled the thunderous pounding in his chest, atrocious feelings suddenly slashing at places which he couldn't protect. From everything he had seen in his whole career, the influence of this man was more agonizing than any death he had encountered, even the most disgusting scenes. "How should I kill him?" 

The man's gaze lowered, wry and bitter. No one possesses integrity, even if yiu soberly embark on this business. Aware of the blood, aware of the pain. JJ is a traitor too. 

"Guide Michele to the previous apartment we used. Make him connect with Victor Nikiforov and meet him in personー meanwhile, kill Michele so he won't be a potential danger."

"What should I do when Nikiforov comes?" 

The man smiles once again. 

"Bring him here." 

_

'Loop jump' Yuuri thought as his body spinned, landing on the ice. His calf muscles evidently shivered, almost spasming under the force of his weight, and yet, Victor applauded the successful jump.

The weather was appropriate for skating outdoorsー the temperature was low enough to maintain the ice thick and secure to endure Yuuri's body, meanwhile there was no snow, or swirling wind to bother the skater. The temperature has been appropriate, white steam of air flowing through Victor's lips at every enthusiastic gasp of pride and cheer. 

Normally, Yuuri wouldn't allow his mind to absently create vivid images during skating. One of the major results of his distraction were a fail over the rink, bruised feet and eternal disappointment afterwards. And here, as he was planning the last combination spin in his head, when Victor's ocean eyes proudly claimed the movements inspired by his influence, his presence and love. It was searing, burning, sweeter than redemption and forgiveness themselves. Maybe Yuuri has already given his whole to the ice. 

The ice crumbles slightly at the frantic movements throwing frost at all directions, Victor is however to magnified by the graceful movements and step consequence. His knowledge over ice skating was too basic. Even when Yuuri critisized himself for not jumping too high or stumbling, the Russian clapped with anticipation to see more. Yuuri spins, leg circling around his body, hands summoned the grey sky with outstretched arms. The ice crumbles againーbut Yuuri's body continued to move weightlessly. 

And Nikiforov's childlike smile of mirth, carefree and innocent, was something that Yuuri treasured to death. He was giggling, mouth hanging opened, gaping at the Japanese, who elegantly ended the little performance. Victor was under the complete control of possessiveness that gripped his frantic heart in it's sharp claws, leaking poison through his arteries. The man with no shame or prejudices, the sceptical, sadistic beast of Saint Petersburg's most revolting unbiased crimes, was hanging from blood dried chains that forbid him to give enough freedom to his most precious one. 

And there was Yuuri Katsukiー a man who possessed nothing more than himself. Standing there, camouflaged by the scattered gentle pieces of frost, his breathing patina heavy and rapid, inky black hair studded with drops of sweat and melting snow, eyes glowing with luminous sparkles. His hands pointing at Victor, as if they were loaded gun, because Victor trusted him with everything he had. 

How would it feel if the person you are ready to take a bullet for is the one standing behind the muzzle? 

The day, nevertheless, goes into a totally different direction. Victor's glee and twinkle of elation in his eyes quickly disappeared when he sensed that something isn't right. Yuuri spins tiredly, hands stretched to the cloudy, foggy sky as he slowed his paceーa deafening single crack sounding underneath his skates.

Their week in Japan has been a delight until now and Victor didn't assume that danger clocks and lurks from the things his lover was passionate about. He curses under his breath in Russian when Yuuri froze at his spot, muscles visibly tensed. He could clearly spot the soaring crack under the steel of his red blades, trembling with the agonizing waters within. 

"Noー" Victor mutters, desperate to walk over the breaking ice. "Yuuri, my love, look at me. Come on, skate to me."

Yuuri's head is buzzing with white noise, horror filled his heart as he heard the underwater sounds that moved below him. His sweat is already gone, replaced by cold tremors, his skin shivering with anticipation to dive into the devious clutches of the coldness. 

Victor would much prefer to pull a loaded gun pressed to his skull than to witness the sight in front of himー Yuuri's warm eyes brimming with tears, his body shaking with apprehension, puffs of air escaping his mouth. He was struggling to keep his pants down, his body barely responding to the rush of adrenaline.

"Victor! No, stay out of the lake!" Yuuri's speech was slurred, fatigue making his vision dizzy. Disoriented, he managed to spot his lover making a pitiful attempt to walk on the ice slowly. The most disturbing partー Yuuri's hand was still stretched towards the older to summon him.

"Yuuriー" Victor was closing the distance between them, praying to God and the devil to keep Yuuri safe. The worrisome expression of puzzlement changed into dread. He was unable to handle the situation, consumed by the eternity of abruptness. He writhed, eyes large and crystal just like the suffocating, thin thread of his steps. 

The shock pierced his face like a thunder, his reaction faster than the gust of the December's wind. Yuuri's body fell into the hole that formed underneath him, the water wrapping his heated skin into a deadly, strong, freezing clutch. 

The older wasted no time, he hurried to find Yuuri's disorientated hands, waving violently to hold into something as raucous, blood-curdling, warmth is a peculiar word that he doesn't know, now when his heart pumps blood irregularly. The swamp itself wasn't very deepーprobably Yuuri's height. Yuuri wasn't a master in swimming, but guaranteed, no one, even professional diver's body, could endure the sharp and sudden contact of water with below the zero temperature.

What terrified Victor upon everything else, was the fact that Yuuri didn't wear much. His pupils dilated when a horrific yelp ripped his throat, throwing his jacket aside, mindlessly throwing himself into the dark waters. The foamy waves of water form around them as Victor struggled, whispering something that is supposed to be Yuuri's name. 

Even if it wasn't completely, he had a bite of Yuuri's agony. Victor reached to catch a pair of cold and damp hands, fighting to stay on the top of the icy water.

Yuuri presumed that this was the end of his life, on the grounds that he was suffocating, legs kicking to find the muddy bottom. How crazy he must be to hear Victor's soft humming through the water noise. The singular force, wit and dream, his first love, as pure as dove's spreaded wings, darker than ink dripping from feature. Just when the water was starting to severely irritate his throat and make it's way to his weak lungs, he was pulled out. 

With a little force, Victor grasped his lover's hands and pulled him back to safety, lying the disoriented and delusional body over the ice. Convulsing and coughing out water, Yuuri's eyes close. As uneducated as Victor was, his first response was to press an ear to Yuuri's blue lips, almost crying with relief when he felt a soft puff of air into his cheek. Then he searched his body for visible wounds. Then, his fingers that smells just like chamomile soap, were pressed to check Yuuri's pulse. Even fiercely frantic, Victor was undeniably beautiful. 

"V-Vitya..."

"Yes, любовь моя," He older's voice was trembling. "I'm going to take you home, I've got you. Stay awake for a little longer, please."

That was enough for the neurotic, unresponsive Japanese to lose control over his consciousness, body attached to the puffy snow within his stiffen body. The last plea and comforting thought, was that he will take his last breath grasping Victor's hand. He wouldn't let such a little moment slip into obscurity, if it happened, Yuuri was already in heaven. From the silky pads of his fingertips down his marked wrist. 

"Yuuriー" Victor noticed that the quivering reduced, Yuuri's clothes were soaked with ice and absorbed the new snowflakes that studded his dark clothes like stars the hollow night void.  
Victor didn't waste his time in speaking, lifting Yuuri and running to the onsen in complete dread.

_

Victor's first reaction to rescue his lover from hypothermia was to take his clothes off and wrap his body into a blanket. As cautious and rigorous as he was, he was frightened to not accidentally rub the other's skin too harshly or change the temperature too rapidly.

"Stay with me, Yuuri." Victor muttered when only Yuuri's head was visible, thermometer hanging from the cooled lips. His skin wasn't covered in blisters or any other damage, the constant shivering ceased, his irregular pulse got into a steady rhythm once Victor eliminated any potential coldness.

If he could, he would execute the ice.

His hands remained around Yuuri's shoulders, resting his face right over Yuuri's cold cheek, consoling himself with every breath Yuuri took. He pressed pecks over Yuuri's temple and fingers, snuggling him in order to bring the natural warmth back to his body. Cautiously following every rise and fall of his chest, Victor murmured. "You are out of danger now." 

The only reminder of the forming snowstorm that had sent the heavens scowling. 

The Russian wished in despair that Yuuri will wake up safe and sound, that he will listen to his joyous heartbeat for many more evenings.

"I'm right here, солнышко, it's me," Victor mumbled as he rocked the frail, shaking to bones figure, into a warm hug, placing kisses around Yuuri's forehead, temple and cheeks in attempt to heat them again. "I'm here baby, you are safe with me. Victor is right here." 

And them Victor focused on the rattled breathing, holding Yuuri close, realizing he has never been more afraid in his whole life. 

The dormant japanese woke up in the late evening. He concentrated on the swirling ceiling. Thankfully, besides a pounding headache, the coldness had left a naught behind. His bare skin was cozy, hot, feverish under the blanket that covered his whole body. With a little force, he managed to push himself up, sitting in the middle of the bed.

With fondness, he acknowledged that Victor's scent was imprinted all over his skin, causing him to giggle. Memories flew back into his head, out of order. With a little recall, he hurried to find his slippers, a towel wantonly wrapped around his shoulders.

With gratitude, he found the city sounds beyond the windows atmospheric, then followed Makkachinー Victor's old poodle that he finally had time to take in Japan, the light scent of chopped vegetables, something herbal and pure, mixed with the homely setting of his home. Either Yuuri's mind was understanding beautiful and abstract ideas, or his body was still delusional.

In the kitchen, he found Victor. His azure-hued angelic eyes were dreary, sorrowful and appeared red and glassy, likewise. With his eyes fixed on the monitor in front of him, biting his nails nervously, Victor had switched off the whole world.

"My love..." Was all that Yuuri mumbled before Victor jumped on his feet, taking the younger into a suffocating hug, letting him breathe into his scent and trace his hands down his back.

"What are you doing out of bed? Are you feeling okay? I should have probably taken you to a hospitalー"

"It's fine," Yuuri mumbled, sniffing loudly. "I don't remember much. Thank you for pulling me out."

"How could you be so reckless? You have no idea how dangerous that is, hypothermia could cost your life!" Victor's voice was stern, scolding, amd as never has ever sensed itー worried to death. "You could drown!" 

"Sorry, Vitya." Victor's gaze darkened at the carefree demeanor. "I should have inspected the area before skating there. I don't understand how I couldn't find any foothold underwater to pull back."

"The reflex of your body was to increase the rate of your respiration dramatically, suxh things could be fatal!" Victor clamored to his lover, connecting their cold lips together as he rested his forehead against Yuuri's. 

"You really shouldn't have exposed your body to the same risk," Yuuri began quietly. "I wouldn't forgive myself if that affected you too."

"Stop talking," Victor said. "Are you feeling okay, Yuuri?"

"Better than expected." Yuuri grinned, spreading his arms to wrap the older into a loose embrace.

"You have a fever," Victor states when his skin responds to Yuuri's heated hand on the back of his neck. His protective instincts caused him to grip tightly on the Japanese's waist, pressing a kiss to his forehead, eyelids and nose.

"It isn't that much in touchー"

" Господи, Yuuri! You are burning up and trembling. Come on, let's get you a shower and then I will ask someone for medicine or antibiotics."

"It's okay, I can get things handled Victor."

"No need to, I've got you and I will take care of this." Victor reassures, breathing out a long held exhale of relief as he held the weak figure. 

_

"What are you working on, by the way?"  
Victor regretfully bit his lip, shifting his gaze to the computer. The hazy, remorseful grimace didn't ease the younger, who reached to keep an eye contact with Victor. Once again, the blue abyss oddly reinforced the japanese, full, misty and ironically innocent, his touches covered Yuuri's feverish skin like sea foam. 

"Unfortunately, I've got a terrible video that Yakov presumes is taken by either Michele or JJ. Being silent about it might be the most cruel things I have done," Yuuri's eyes examine the woeful look in front of him, that was numb and helpless. "I have no right to keep it from you." 

"May I see it?" A query came from the younger, who squeezed Victor's hands with anxiety. 

"Of course, but I have to warn you it's pretty graphic. I'm not sure you'll be able to handle itー" 

"Victor, just show me." The impatience in his voice is now evident, eyes feverishly bright. Victor nodded again, opening a file on his computer, named with some unreadable symbols for the Russian. Yuuri, however, recognized the familiar kanji system of his own language, a scowl darkening his flushed face. 

"Do you understand what it says?" Victor asked immediately, loosely holding his lover's hand, tracing loving kisses from Yuuri's radial artery where his pulse point was located to the base of his ring, savoring the softness of his palm avidly. 

"Of course," Yuuri growls in his throat, getting a frustrated and impatient. "The way it's written is grammatically incorrect, but this bastard is talking about Phichit." 

The screen becomes dark before Victor wrapped his arm tightly around Yuuri's waist. As if his scent changed with the rush of hormones, Yuuri's jaw was clenching, body overheating on the swirly chair. 

His heart immediately lurched with dread, alarmed by the scene played on the bad quality tape. His best friendー the boy who appeared bleary and underweight, who would go to bed starving and cold just to save some money for his family, who gave his last charred bread bite to Yuuri, was bathed in cuts in bruises. 

His heart skipped a beat when he acknowledged that Christophe's body was barely moving with last efforts on the rustic, dusty floor. Phichit's mouth was filled with a wet piece of rag, his body wincing with humiliation and angst. The came doesn't move much, it's focused on the pleads that Phichit muffles like a litany, while a sickening laughter is coming from behind. 

"Yuuriー"

The storm in Yuuri's eyes is heart-rending, their regular chestnut color is drained. Victor's heart swells at the sight of Yuuri's wobbling bottom lip, eyes shut from the tragical event, hand gripping the side of his sweating, redding face. There wasn't even a clue of his expressive, delightfully luscious, romantic eyes that hid timid and shy behind his hands. His lover was afflicted, bitter tears of worthlessness soaking his eyes. 

The morbid silence ripped his heart from his ribcage.

"Yuuri, let me get you in bed." Victor's arm was wrapped around Yuuri's midriff, pressing warm kisses to the inhumanly pale skin of Yuuri's hands. After shaking him a few more times unsuccessfully, Yuuri proceed to look at Victor's face, searching for the poetry of starts, desperate to find something to hold to. "I won't let you to go through that on your own, do you hear me? I'm right here." 

" Victorー" Yuuri's words are unintelligible, and for the first time, Victor could catch a hint of wrath and despair. "I can understand it now, Vitya."

"Yes, my love, what do you understand?"

"How much it took you to get used to this. No one deserves to witness so much agony in another human being. Forgive me, Victorー I never knew how it felt." Yuuri throws himself to embrace to other, his eyes still bleak and perplexed.

"Shh, everything is okay. They are working on the case. Phichit will be in safe hands and that is what matters."

"Vicー" Yuuri cries once again before gripping Victor's shirt. "Am I a monster too?"

Victor's most altruistic act ever was to love Yuuri, and he couldn't bear lying him. However, he wasn't convinced himself, if there is an exact definition of bad amd good, after all, both of these are caused by pain.

"Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because I want him dead."

_

With a very forceful and intimidating glare, Victor was drying Yuuri's soaked hair with a green towel. The raven haired male was much more peaceful, his muscles lax under the serene, rhythmic hum Victor sang. A steamy mug of herbal tea was placed on the desk, Yuuri's body covered with Victor's coat which he insisted on cuddling. Victor was adamant, trying to make Yuuri eat the soup he cooked, a hot wooden spoon pressed to his bottom lip. Victor would encourage, kiss Yuuri's cheeks and do everything on the world just to make sure his lover is out of danger. He was doing it to calm himself even a little bit. 

"Here," A rough female voice said, which they both identified as Mariー Yuuri's older sister.

She handed the russsian some broad spectrum antibiotics and and iced plastic bags of food. Meticulously, Victor read every line on the bottle of the pills, whilst placing an ice pack on Yuuri's carotid artery, a lumpy one right above his heart. 

The coldness didn't cause that severe damage, and with his high fever, he had to get cooled down. 

"Don't be ridiculous," She mumbled. "I wouldn't poison my own brother, no need to protect every single bite he puts in his mouth."

"If I have to, I will," Victor growls lowly in his throat, wrapping the tired figure in the safety of his hugs. "What do you need, anyway?"

"It's about the case you are in, " Victor's eyes widen at the glum and sullen biy in his arms, who barely nods his head in agreement, before resting his arms around Victor's waist. "There is nothing to hide."

Fucking eavesdropper. 

"I don't feel like you came to apologise to him."

"I didn't, if I have to admit. Yet, a simple excuse won't erase our past conflicts. Even if it's a little but too late, I could actually do something for my little brother without judging." She pulled out a blue folder, handing it to Victor demonstratively.

With a scowl and irritation, Victor's fingers automatically pulled a piece of paper from it, reading hectically as he skimmed through the lines. His attention was caught by the name on the top of the pageーMichele Crispino, his age and the state of his condition.

"What is this supposed to mean?" Victor asks.

"Read it carefully again."

"Vitya, what is this?" Yuuri questioned before pulling the paper with quivering red-splotched fingers. After fixing his glasses, he examined the document in details without leaving a word unread.  
"That is Michele's report from the hospital here. It's a few years old. How did you manage to get that?"

"It doesn't matter how," His sister spoke nonchalantly. "Look at the diagnose. Besides the accident that occurred when you defend us, Michele was diagnosed with another illness, three years before the accident."

"How is that going to help us?"

"His coma wasn't a result from the head trauma, the doctor's examination proves that it was a suizure. To my recollection, he certainly did show some bizarre signs of a suizure, that type of body convulsions perhaps had nothing to do with your self-defense. "

"Shall we interpret that diagnose as a sign that Yuuri's self-defense was harmless?" Victor drawls the words, the atmosphere is heavy on his shoulders.

"Yes," She admits in defense. "I brought them so you can see the prescription at the ending notesーhe was adviced to begin a therapy that requires special medications and tests, but is likely to reduce his suizures."

"Hard for me to believe," Victor waves his hand. "A poverty-stricken theft with minimal experience could be responsible for the success of a Canadian mobster? He could barely walk without further assistance, leave the question for his reputation aside."

"Except if someone didn't assist him and nurse him back to health. He could be financially on a spouse, relative or JJ himself." Yuuri suggested. "His plan was elaborate and strategic, which makes me think that they aren't working alone. They probably have a superior figure that utilizes them."

Victor bit his lip regretfully once again.

"That was all I couldー"

"Thank you, Mari." Yuuri's voice chants with gratitude, before enveloping his sister into an affectionate hold, and thank God Victor pulled him away before he could hyperventilate or cough violently over her. "I wasn't ever mad, I promise."

"Yuuri, don't speak love. It's okay. I need to take your temperature and get you to eat a little bit, да?" Victor fondly suggests before bundling the younger's body into a blanket, tightly wrapped around his shoulders. He reached to press a peck on Victor's lips and puff his pillows. 

The kiss is chaste, open-mouthful and sweet. After taking a quick taste of the medical scent imprinted over Yuuri's lips, Victor hums at the warmth and deliciousness that melted over his eager tongue.

"We need to get back in Saint Petersburg. I have to be there when this ends, and I can't just sit and watch anymore." Yuuri wasn't fully aware of the plans he spoke aloud, his head was dizzy, body overwhelmed.

"You need to recoverー"

"Victor. Please book the earliest ticket to Russia. I will be like new in a few hours, however, that is too much time for Phichit and Christophe, who might not make it," Yuuri's words had always been braver under the influence of alcohol and fever particularly.

"Okay, sweetheart, " Victor comforts. "Shh, please lay down and rest, солнышко. Everything will be okay, don't stress your body anymore. There, rest." Dealing with someone as stubborn as Yuuri is a talent, bit eventually the older got the desired result and had the whole night ahead to plan his next movement. "Don't scare me like this, ever. I could have an heart attack." 

With a little smile he looked at the hospital reportsー after all, you Yuuri Katsuki, are innocent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are much appreciated as always! I respond to all messages on my Instagram too. Feel free to express your thoughts on the story or even talk to me about anything! It's always a pleasure.
> 
> My Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	15. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness, let the climax begin :)

Victor's apartments was described as the gates of hell from where you cannot return. Beyond the chestnut door, that 'hell' seemed to be more appealing. Obsoleted furniture dusted, wiped and cleaned precisely, glistening under the morning sun. From the colorful bouquets Yuuri spoilt him with to the panoramic windows facing the outrageously contrasting grim strees of Saint Petersburg, his place implied that Victor was highly hygienic, meticulous, rational man with undeniable and rich taste.

Yuuri aggressively slammed the door as he entered, suffocating from the proximity of the walls. The first thing he sawーan armchair next to the windows, too tempting not to slump into it. One of the most delightful and heartwarming things was when Victor's reverie, inspired by the serenade of the dark, would left him pacing for hours, one of his hands resting over Makkachin's fur and applying gentle scratches, the other one rubbing his temple. He loved that armchair, Chardonnay in his cold hand, gaze shifting. 

Sometimes Yuuri didn't want to know Victor perceives the whole picture. If for Yuuri it was a romantic setting where he chanted Victor's name whilst kissing him like he's saying goodbye, for Victor it was something a way more triggering and worrysome than the background of studded stars, antique streetposts and fast beating hearts. 

That is why Yuuri only wrapped his strong arms like featherless wings around the absent man and let him absorb the warmth. It was an unspoken vow, somewhere lost in the midnight shadows, that he couldn't prevent the debauchery, nevertheless, he could be an obedient dog, a caring spouse, outworn light of the hovering moon. He allowed Victor to weep in his sweater, as if his life was a whole play and he secrets lurked between the interlude and the applause. 

When their lay at the shrine of their mutual vulnerability and plant a cryptic garden of enigmatic flowers, so their souls would leave the other's. Yuuri enjoyed to simply watch Victor's pure, sublime, lovely gaze reflecting the bathed in moonlight stars and constellations, now submissively asking his dearest one to hold him as he sleeps. Innocent tulips, chrysanthemums dancing under the searing sun, white roses with no thorns. Shall we build a garden, my love? 

The muttered street lamp wasn't blazing with light when the night was replaced by the morning sunriseーit happened faster than a twist of a knife. And Victor was no longer purring with affection against Yuuri's crumbling, heartsore chest. 

"Oi, mind your manners! These doors are worth more than everything you've ever possessed!" He didn't mind Yurio who screamed from the sofa. 

The younger has been looking after Makkachin ever since they came back from Japan a week ago. The silence was pleasingーsome grape juice, a specious couch and dog that had the habbit to lay a head in your lap, it wasn't unbearable. However, Yuuri came home seemingly angry and Yurio wasn't used to seeing him like this. Because Victor was missing. 

He said nothing, just grabbed a glass that he filled with champagne to the brim, some leaking over the kitchen plot. With a sigh he slumped his body next to Yurio, taking continuous breaths. His hand quaking with tedious tremors at the base of the fogged glass. 

"What is wrong with you?" 

"Everything right now," a belated respond came. 

"You realized that Victor is a sadistic maroon that can't express basic feelings? Welcome to my world, I've been there for years," Yurio sips vodka in another glass, taking a shot that doesn't even sting his throat. "I don't know what is more tragic, his cruelty or his non-existent, bleak sense of humour." 

"Yurio," The older begins, a ball of anxiety exploding inside of his body. "Has Victor ever disappeared?" He asked at the disarray of emotions that threat to explode, shoulder pressed to Yurio's bony one. 

"Of course, he is a professional assassin. That isn't a reason to be afraid, though. Take me and Otabek as an example, I'm not certain that he is alive most of the time and I'm calm because I confide him." 

"I trust Victorー"

"Trust my ass, I must be blind not to notice how sceptical you are. You question everything!" After a quick pause, Yurio spoke again. "Where have you been?" 

"Went to the warehouse, I had to talk with Victor about something, but I couldn't find him. He isn't picking his freaking phone and I'll go insane!" 

Yurio steps back when the older buries his hands into his hair to pull it, holding the urge to break everything in the room. He was downcast, mournful and there was no possible was to convey his madness. Yurio seemed to understand the situation, instead of mocking and criticizing as he'd normally do, with careful approach, he sat back next to the other, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"There is no logical reason to overthink, Victor is a grown-up man with enough experience." The words couldn't possible soothe the demonic mantra echoing in Yuuri's mind. What if he didn't come home? Why is that negative feeling making him uneasy?

"How do you deal with the stress?"

"I never stress," Yuuri looked up with disbelieve, the other scowled. "... Fine. I work on the case until full blockage."

Yuuri regretfully bit his bottom lip, setting his fogged glasses aside.

"I'm a civil. Everything I have access to is what Victor narrates at the end of the day. Well, even if I'm somehow related to Michele Crispino, I'm in no way familiar with Phichit's abduction. Oh God, he could be dead..." Yuuri burried his face into his palms.

"No, noー" Yurio attempted to protest, but Makkachin appeared, wiggling her tail, nuzzling into Yuuri's lap. The streets outside got gloomier when the weak sun hid behind a thick, puffy clouds. The atmosphere drastically transformed, a gust of snowy wind stroking the frosted windows, the sun gradually moved to west where it found the nest of dusk. With such depressing setting, even Yurio's nerves could barely endure.

"If I could, I would talk directly to Yakov."

"Which is impossible," Yurio's harsh words slice Yuuri mercilessly. "He isn't available to anyone besides his servants."

"What if he has relatives I could speak to?"

"Are you out of your mind?!" Yurio yelps, pushing his aggressively into the sofa, earning a frustrated bark from Makkachin that sensed the intensity.  
"Victor won't spare me if I allow you to die due to curiousity! Victor was born and bred in this business Katsuki, and my task is to make sure you aren't too demanding to know about his stuff." He looked regretfully at the carpet, strained with liquor. The younger just drank nonchalantly, Yurio's warns slipped into oblivion. 

"If there is something that could be done, we shouldn't shelter here whilst Victor is fighting against the enemy!"

It took a split second for the younger to respond with explicit and vulgar words. In the process of screaming around and searching for something inside his backpack, Makkachin sat in Yuuri's lap wiggling her tail euphorically. Yuuri couldn't supress his astound when the younger's face drastically morphined into a worrisome expression.

"What'd you find?" Yuuri questions with narrowed eyebrows and confident, emboldened look.

"Have you heard of Lilia Baranovskaya?" The Japanese shook his head suspiciously, face eclipsed from the gloom that entered the window as the sun hid behind the hills. "She is Feltsman's previous wife."

The encroaching uneasiness smoldered him in flames. The name of just as prestigious woman inoculated fear and respect, that left him into dust. He wasn't reluctant when it came to the person he knew as if they had spent centuries together. It wasn't until now that Yuuri realized how holding the silver haired male was the most homely and safe feeling in the world. Him and Victor barely knew their favorite seasons, but that matters nothing when you revere the person next to you in any shape or form, through thick and thin, and understand them by simple silence. 

"We should pay her a visit today," Yuuri mumbled, flopping into the couch once again before walking with steady pace to their bedroom. "I need to work on the case or else I will go insane." 

"Oi, you can't play with fire, Katsuki!" A beast in a costume of a sheep, when Victor was missing by his side, Yuuri transformed into something fierce, gruesome and hard to recognise. He drank from a chalice of cruelty's skull, drop by drop, he liked his revenged avidly. 

He returned to the spacious room as he brought a map with himself. The rough language and raw weather weren't the only unpleasant downside in Saint Petersburg, but were the unorganized buildings. With a shaky finger and force of his touch, Yuuri followed a main red line of ink to the center of the map.

"She lives here." 

And why was Yuuri informed about such things? A happenstance that occurred a while after Victor would collapse in bed with his fine suit and draped scarf around his neck, allowing Yuuri to lead the way to their nest and undress him with no lewd thoughts, no obscene suggestions. After that, between the quick steamy shower and the goodnight kiss, he had a minute in Victor's office, since he was the most confidant one to stay there. The night owl was like a raven bird that paced through the graphic contents, images, documents in russian on his clustered desk. 

It was a hint of the debauchery in the life of the man sleeping in the next room, however, that raven bird had never sensed the deceive, wrath and dismay, and the blood that stained the glass of a streetpost. 

"Yuuri, are you convinced in your words? Is that what you really want?" Yurio has never called his real name by now. 

"Yes," He looked through his glasses, realizing that it could be the end of his life, it'd mean putting even his lover in danger. Everything. "What are we going to do?" 

After a brief intrude of silence, the younger spoke. 

"Let me call someone."

_

The fact that Michele sent a message to Yakov's system, was honestly the most cryptic and suspicious decision they've made through the entire case. 

Victor spoke with Yakov the whole morning, negotiating, ugly cursing whether he should really meet with the man who aimed to demolish his whole reputation, soul and body to dust. 

His demeanor, sweltering and warlike as usual, emboldened the younger heir of the business to stand on his ground and calmly attempt to put his arguments forward, notwithstanding, you cannot disagree with the hand that feeds you. At the end, Victor already accepted the mission, which caused an acute problem in his personal life. The brief and as a matter of fact, first fight he had with Yuuri over the phone, irritated him additionally, beyond possible. It was at the same time, a golden opportunity for him not to draw out the process. The earlier he returns at home, the happier he'll be. 

Here he was, passing through a cage like door to enter an enclosed space, locked between some old-fashioned soviet buildings. Relieved by the quietness, he moved cautiously to a door that was almost invisible from the shadows. The day was bleeding into a nightfallー setting an appropriate, nightmarish setting for him to act. 

The echo was the afterthought of the click of his shoes. With all his glory, he allured the darkness, cautiously moving to the basement where he was instructed to go. Victor was used to being submitted to, he naturally managed to get all miscreants to pay for their mistakes effortlessly. No one could disagree, however that Victor's voice, no matter the muzzle of the hot gun pointed at the victim, was lascivious, sweet and comforting. Isn't it just like a pastor who forgives sins? A mother that firgives her son, an exorcist that forgives his demons. 

He was the heir of the Bratva. The boy who was lying underneath a bridge, bones crushed to shattered pieces, vomit and blood leaking from his lips, was the reasons behind the macabre series of murders around Russia. His presence, sinister, evil and intimidating, was a verdict of a death penalty that many facedー and none escaped from its clutches. With an ominous, tight-lipped smile that exposed his perfectly white teeth, he approached the bodyguard. 

"Whoー" He didn't quite finish his sentence before Nikiforov could pull a dagger from his boot and punch it into the man's lungs, followed by a wheeze. Then he entered, anticipation glimmering the grey, insightful eyes, who was the man who treat them for so long? 

"Michele Crー" His mouth shut at the sight. 

Michele Crispino was dead. Just like Emil.

There was no doubt regarding that matterーbody relaxed into a stool, bullet wound decoding the side of his skull. There wasn't much blood, only his swollen, eerie, distorted expression, phantasmal creature of your nightmares. The mobster shivered with bizarre and rather unanticipated sympathy, trailing off into thoughts. The puddle of blood from the bodyguard he just murdered spread to soak his shoes, and in just a secondー Victor could taste the blood since his head was shoved to the ground. It was a trap. 

He specialized with some of the deadliest martial arts and yet allowed himself to lose a hold of the opponent. He wasn't at the position to use the other'a strength, not to stab into his weak spots. He immediately recognized the taller manーJean-Jacques Leroy. 

"B-Bastard." Victor tried to say in his anger, face pressed to the dirty floor. JJ quickly raised him to slam his body into the wall with a stare of wrath and victory. 

Victor hated referring to himself as a hero, since taking another human's life could never be an altruistic act, even if it inspired by sense of judge or protection. He killed those who murdered innocent peopleー little pathetic puppets like JJ. 

"Hello, mr Nikiforov. I'm pleased to finally meet you, so will my boss." 

So after all, he didn't work alone. 

"That isn't going to break me, I thought you had an actual plan. I really didn't underestimate you. Who ordered you to kill your little friend, just like Emil, hm?" JJ clenched his teeth, giving a sign to his man to drag Victor to the car parked right in the middle to one of the backstreets. 

"Just to clarify, it was Christophe who turned out to be a traitor. I did a favour to the whole organization by getting rid of him." 

"Noー" Victor frantically moves. "You wouldn't." 

"Just watch." 

_

"You aren't using anything more complex than a gun," Otabek ordered. "You put the bullets at the top of the magazine, then press it back upward until you hear the click." 

The steel and metal made a sudden contact with Yuuri's hands before he used his palm to pull the slider. The click wasn't too unsettling, however it was heavier than anticipated. The Japanese took his cracked lip between his teeth, weariness discoloring his bleak, lacking any vitality cheeks. Yurio and Otabek shared a prolonged, pained look of wonder. It was exactly like Yuuri to be an endless ellipsisー a lonesome man who only shared the companionless midnight hours with the silver, arid orb. The moon never judged, and it taught a valuable truth, that without darkness you cannot see the star studded horizon. 

"Katsuki," Otabek called as he drove down a one way, narrow road in the bustling atmosphere of the city's noontide. The younger had just emptied a second bottle of water in attempt to stop his throat from blockage, uneasy and tensed by the perplexing, approaching danger. "We will arrive in a few minutes, prepare." 

Yurio had a diversity of weapons inside his baggy clothesー a pistol, knuckle-duster that wrapped around his slender fingers, fully armed with a resting, aloof expression. Was that the archetype for a teenager? Who'd have pushed a young blood kid, craving communication and freedom, into the horrific and unforgiving world of crime? 

It has barely been a full day and Yuuri missed Victor as if they were separated into different dimensions. Yuuri was skeptical when it came to interactions, and yet, for such a short season, he got madly enamored with someone who he couldn't describe as something other than a soulmate. 

Victor's morning scent of inner peaceー fresh pears and a charming poison of white flowers with a hint of musk. Little lines under his unfathomable, sapphire morning gaze of drowsiness. Complete vulnerability and tenderness, a whole world of unbearable agony, beautiful dreams, healing scars and stardust, all of that only in one human being. Yuuri missed pressing a kiss to Victor's wide forehead, mocking him about the unnatural and odd shade of his hair that Yuuri adored eternally. 

He couldn't even express his gratitude for the warmth, for the growth from scratch and safety Victor poured into him. The way he gifted Yuuri full control of every situation, and discussed everything with no shame, no doubt. Yuuri could feel rage boiling his blood, heart pumping blood violently as his face flushed. The weapon was shaking, attached like a second skin to his palm, cool wind blowing into his messed hair from the opened window. 

"This case remind me of something," Yurio began. "Before a few years Victor disappeared like this with no warning. We thought he had been abducted, killed or even worse. Eventually, he came back on his own in pretty stable condition. Life is a brutal teacher, so his instincts to survive are better developed than other's."

Yuuri barely winces, musing over what the younger said. 

"What was the case back then?" 

"Attack over a prostitute facility that belonged to Feltsman's company. Victor took full responsibility of it, which caused him to kill many."

"How old was he?" Yuuri questions with so much remourse, breath hitching at the confession. 

"I'm not certain, probably your age. He understood his position as Feltsman's slave ever since he was my age. Don't underestimate him! Your romantic bullshit has nothing in common with his world." Yuuri gulps, absently looking at the primordial, grim buildings as Otabek parked the car. 

"So we finally arrived!" 

"Don't complain, I took the shortest possible route." Otabek hurried to hush and argue. 

"As always." 

"I've got Popovich and two of our best snipers on position. If something doesn't go as expected, send a signal as I instructed." Yurio nodded as he took Yuuri out of the car, which furiously drove down the street. 

The building was rather uncanny, but admittedly impressive place to hide if you have commited a crime. A block of flats, not a dirty sleazy one, but well decorated with colorful of flowers balconies. It was too flawless to be true, there was something rotten, something primal and ugly within that littke cute building. Baranovskaya was indeed an intriguing woman, who could be the worst antagonist in the mafia's unwritten story. 

"We don't have a vest on." Yuuri said. 

"You are going to be fine. Take this." 

Yurio handed the other a ringー a golden ring that resembled one that Victor had too. As a matter of fact, it was exactly the same as Otabek's too, which was prominent on the background of his always black clothing. "

"What is it?" Yuuri asked while struggling to put it on his index finger. 

"It's a prove that you are part of the Bratva and you work for Yakov. Everyone, that holds a prestigious position in this business wears such ring."

"Why are you giving it to me? I'm notー"

"That's the point. You aren't part of the business, Lilia might order her man to murder you instantly, however, with that accessory on your finger, she'll think you have Yakov's trust and won't harm." 

Yuuri breathes out loudly at the brief explanation. Such a generous, altruistic and self-sacrificing act from Yurio, either the situation was life threatening, or he was finally accepting the Japanese. 

"I can't accept." Yuuri waves a hand, looking at the grey-hued void, resting under the chilly gust of windー thy gratitude is the key to accomplish everything, just listen to what the universe is trying to tell you.   
"You are fifteen, thus inexperienced with life. I'm not in the position to put you in dangerー" 

"Tittering little idiot, I was simply following Victor's orders!" Yuuri's collar got violently pulled into Yurio's tight fists, screaming vulgar words into Yuuri's widening eyes with hatred.   
"Do as I say, because I won't hesitate to kill her, but you will! You want your precious boyfriend unscathed back? Then you must have the goods to get your hands dirty. Заткнитсь!" 

The reaction was immediate, absolutely haunting and disturbing. As if Yuuri Katsuki could murder him with impeccable grace right there. A story where hell, heaven and earth are in a war after the world dealt its cards. A story where someone just like Yuuri Katsuki, who searched for redemption and forgiveness his whole life, was ready to throw it into flames, soak it in ink and throw hia innocent as a grenade over the enemy. 

It took him a thousand years of mending his shattered soul. He kept the world, stronger than Hercules, over his bare shoulders. And now, in the face of redemption, he preferred the beauty of his scars, the sinful and bitter reminder of everything innocent he had doubted. Today, he forgave himself, because Yuuri Katsuki plays with fire like no one elseーand his redemption is the sweetest love he was born to give to Victor. His Victor. The whole reason he is here. And now, he could unleash and allow the monster, connected with the devil himself, to show it's fangs and fight like no one else could. 

He had Victor's forgiveness and that was enough for him to rule the entire earth. 

"Yura, that wasn't necessary," He whispered at the background of dim lights from the ground level apartments. 

He was a phychology studentsー blame it on his high intuition or his experience, either way he read body language and gestures like no one else. As much as Yurio was concerned, the older japanese took an oath to protect one person. And that person knew, that Yuuri could eat you for breakfast if he was angry. 

"Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, they got Victor. I reassure you he will be alright, for now. Christmas holidays are coming so have blessed moments with your loved ones or even by yourself! It doesn't matter, just spread positivity and happiness. x3 I have presents prepared for all of you regarding this story, as well as an adorable ending! Some things should happen before that, however.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments or send messages on my Instagram, I respond to all. 
> 
> My Instagram username: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	16. The Revenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the ground of the dim room, Yuuri found a little, wrinkled note laying mutely on the floor. He could barely hold the dam of rage as he opened it, ungrateful groan of irritation he read it to himself. 
> 
> "Let the game begin." 
> 
> (Clues are being found regarding the case, Victor is aware of the man who stands at the bottom of the whole dilemma.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness again.

A typical soviet apartment, even if the exterior hinted for something modern. The inward part was a different storyーweak, lacking any form brisk and coziness, the walls were crumbling from the rapid obsolescence. A woman in her late forties opened the front door, cryptic men in black shirts patiently waiting at the corners of the hall. Perhaps it was the adrenaline or the fierce desire of Yuuri to get to the bottom of this twisted story, that took his breath away and left him almost hyperventilating from the threshold. 

"Who are you looking for?" Lilia questions. Yuuri is preoccupied with the details as usualーfrom the sculptured, unpleasantly sharp lines of her face to the tight bun of her hair that didn't allow a lock to get into her withdrawn, apathetic gaze, to the room with antiques and old items like matryoshka dolls decorating the shelves. Her  
hands were abnormally rough, covered with calluses, resembling yellowish craters of a distant planet, her nails sharp, eyes focused. Yuuri's uneasiness grew, fear circling around him like vultures. 

Yurio demonstratively lifted the raven haired male's hand. She took a sharp inhale, staring into the ring. Just a finger away was the silver ring him and Victor exchanged, seemingly bigger in size. He pursed her lips, hands on hips. 

The look in her eyes was condescending and ravishing, in a manner than even Yuuri who was an irrefutable talent when it came to phychology couldn't understand. He diligently memorized everything essential, the rest he left to his logic and natural understanding of social behavior. That was a pure example how even an excellent student who diligently operates with all his subjects, was unable to cooperate in front of a real case of a criminal. 

Yurio offhandly push through them and intruded into the apartment, leaving Yuuri to quiver under the heavy glare of the Russian woman. 

She wasn't your stereotypical wife of a mobster. Literature of royal times was layered with dust on the shelves, coffee set on the wooden table in front of them. The atmosphere would have been better if the stench of rotten flesh didn't ruin it. Yuuri's heart beats like crazy at the thought of strangled to death bodies, thrown at the opposing room. 

"Are you some of the agents Yakov sends to check of there is any damage done to his possessions?" 

They both shared a brief glance, before turning their heads to her. 

"We aren't," Yurio disagrees. "In fact, I've got no clue what you are talking about." 

"It seems that the bodyguards that are already occupying the whole apartment aren't enough for him! I have zero privacy ever since I agreed to keep his pathetic finances safe." Her eyes scrunched with disappointment. 

"We aren't here to interrogate you about Yakov or your relationship," Yuuri reassured. "One of our man, an important man for Yakov is in a great danger." 

Lilia isn't someone you can deceiveー clever people observe and interpret subtle signs. For her, it was enough to take a good look at Yuuri's face to identify him as a simple citizen, despite the clichéd golden ring on his finger that was prominently too tight. It was always a delightful show to behold, when someone who hasn't touched blood was trying to look intimidating. 

Yurio, bothered by the prolonged silence, snapped with louder voice.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" 

"Why should I?" Yuuri grits his teethーa very inconsiderate move from Yurio to lose his temper in front of her, and they were yet to obtain information. 

"It's for your benefit to speak," Yuuri informs, seeing an eruption of smoldering fires inside her icy pools. "We are talking about Victor Nikiforov." 

Yurio flinched at the name of his superior being used so carelessly, so confident and bold. 

"Ah, you mean Yakov's son?" 

They both froze like a thunder hit them, hearts skipping a beat from the electricity of her statement. 

"Victor isn't Yakov's son!" Yurio disapproved, shaking hia head. His disheveled platinum hair is almost entirely covering the livid glare of his discouraged expression, fist resting next to Yuuri's side. Hopefully, the sniper doesn't do anything impulsive, at such moments of adrenaline and fright, Yuuri had a habbit to calm his nerves by being the backbone of the problem. And he will, bump by bump, vertebrae under your fingertips, oh he could be strong for every aligning star on the night sky if it was for Victor. 

"He isn't," She said, putting another melting cube of sugar into her coffee. "Yakov adopted him. No wonder he is disappearing right now."

"How would you know that he adopted Victor? Lawfully, if your marriage hasn't ended, you'd be his mother." Yuuri questions. 

"That's right. When Victor was very young Yakov found him malnourished and abandoned. My husband has never been the type to purposely adopt a child out of good deed. He needed a heir of his business. However, it's a mystery why he demised all his money to him."

And right there, everything began to get clearer. 

"Victor is going to inherit everything?" Yuuri asks with evident anxiety, disturbed, enraged. The testosterone levels hit the ceiling, they were caught in a middle of a crossfire. 

Victor was the ideal target. 

"Yes, that is why many attempted to murder him through the years. He had full rights over Yakov's money which isn't little. In fact, more than any criminal syndicate has stolen." The other two are gaping, jaws hanging with puzzlement. She isn't the slightest bit bewitched, Yakov was too egocentric to share such detail. 

"Why Yakov even did that?" Yurio questions himself, rubbing his chin with a finger. 

The whole picture is still as vague as before. In addition to JJ and Michele, Yakov who was the last one to suspect, had quite a real reason to act behind his protege's back. He allowed his eyes to walk over the section with many black and white pictures framed. Impressed by the selection of books, he instantly recognized the name Tolstoy and Pushkin. The romantism was a period which inspired Yuuri to avidly read many old books of that time, it was a matyer of time for him to get a small collection of not only novels but phylosophy books too, embarking on an unexpected path for him. 

She had similar tastes. 

A desperate trick that almost always workedーa steady, continuous stare into her eyes. 

The bitter chocolate warmth of his wide pools was gone. Yuuri's eyes appeared bigger behind the glasses, darkening to onyx black. Glacial emptiness, hollow, a glare that wouldn't spare you. Obsidian, burning pitch black hole that consumed her. A wraith of horror, glare of ire and hunger, Yuuri Katsuki was an epitome of a demon whose wrath could make him kill you just with fear. 

Until you don't fall into techycardia and hyperventilate. He will kill you by scaring you to literal death. He is the preacher of your nightmares, a church of demonic arts and creatures like hags and ghouls. Murderous and calm, familiar with phychology, Yuuri Katsuki was the lover of Victor Nikiforov. Completely equal to his partner, as possessive and strong, he wasn't to underestimate. 

"Look at this." She finally confirms, handling them a pile of documents. Just then, a raindrops fell tenderly on the windowーYuuri wished they could kiss his skin and comfort him to sleep. 

"Results by an examination," Yurio stated, reading them cautiously in Russian. "And some prescriptions. It says that Yakov was diagnosed with lower respiratory infection." He points at the patient's name. 

"That is quite old," Yuuri says. 

"Yes. Later, the doctors even feared that he had lung carcinoma. It was so dangerous for his health to smoke and organize idiotic fights in some abandoned districts!" Yuuri could sense the affliction, she was comfortable enough to break down and cry. 

"He was going to die and needed a reliable heir of his creation." Yuuri states, referring to the whole Mafia. His anger wasn't to mess with, after one rapid exhale he turned to her again.

"That won't be of a great help," She admits. "But Yakov had a potential reason to want Nikiforov dead. That is all I thought you might need to know."

"You are telling us with ease. What if Yakov questions our meeting later?" 

"He is in the position to give orders to everyone, including me. I'm sick of his possessiveness, I'm so tired of that attitude! As old as I'm getting, my freedom has always been restricted to his preferences. Now when he is actually healthy and out of danger, he doesn't need someone stronger than him to mess with his empireー"

"He could get rid of Victor." Yurio said bluntly, causing Yuuri's eyes to widen out of nowhere. His hand almost reached to the gun in his clothesー if that will give peace to the soul of his forlorn one, he would shot even himself. 

"That isn't going to happen." Yuuri crooned. Being good by nature is different enough for the world of repetitive abuse and greed. With a light smile that bewitched even the devil at this moment, he reached to rub the back of his neck. 

"Katsukiー"

"Victor is out of danger as long as he is with us. That is why we need to find him as soon as possible and guarantee his safety," Yuuri explained, lowering his gaze to the gust of wind that mercilessly shook the branches of the bare tree outside, the rain forming little puddles. He sounded ridiculously professional. 

"Can you tell Victor about Yakov's intentions? Warn him! I don't want that outrageous man to kill another person, especially the one he brought up..." Even Yurio's heart clenches when she bestowed them with this saddening wish, dead smile of last hope curving her red lips. 

"I will find him," Yuuri promises in a heartbeat, reaching to hold her hand. "I swear."

_

Lonely souls are those who are the greatest, Yuuri would say. Victor clearly remembers their meetings, and right now all he can think about is the warmth of the scarf Yuuri once gave him or the homely feeling of his embrace. 

That didn't last for long until he wasn't awaken by a noise approaching him. Fortunately, he wasn't harmed, that wasn't the purpose of his abduction at all. He had a little scratch over his jaw caused by the fall of his body over the concrete. Besides that minor damage, warm blood soon soaked his nose and right ear, a bruise decorating his clavicle.

JJ used chloroform soaked into a rag to knock the mobster unconscious. It doesn't take a whiff as presented in movies, but it's a proven and risky method. Besides that, which wasn't that much for Victor who had survived worse to endure, Victor was still alive, frightened and confused. 

"You should have been careful." He heard a hoarse voice say in Russian. His head was spinning, delusional and lost, Victor's legs instinctively moved by themselves. 

"Извини, пожалуйста, я больше не буду!" The words demanding apology stayed as a mantra in his head. With a groan, he realized his wrists were chained, body too weak to respond.

"If something happened to him, I wouldn't go easy on you. He is my son!"

His son? 

Victor's eyes widened at this. The last thing he recalled about his father was the day when he was helplessly weeping over his mother's deceased body. That eventful winter evening when he almost lost his life and sliced any sort of connection with his previous life. 

How was his father even alive? More importantly, why is he working with JJ? 

His head goes dizzy and woozy again, pulsating with a throbbing headache. He anticipated to be tortured, held captive and used as a lure for Yakov's money. The atmosphere was trickyー peachy colored walls, a small window on his right that barely accessed any light to break through. The wall next to him was icy cold, the weather terrible as usual. 

"Yuuriー" Is the first coherent thing that he spoke with syrupy, warm tone, reaching to hug to emptiness in front of him. His imagination allowed the inky locks of Yuuri's growing hair to cover his chest as he welcomed the weight of his lover's image into his arms. Victor just had to go homeーeven if it was in his bare, bleak apartment in the center of Saint Petersburg, even if it was the bumpy old bed in Yuuri's room, even if it was hell. 

A tear rolled down his cheek as he breathed acceleratedly through his chapped lips. He needed a knight with no armor, just with ink, to rewrite his story and allow Yuuri to stay with him. 

God, he couldn't die, he didn't get to tell Yuuri how much he loved him!

"Hello, Victor." The Russian turned his head left, seeing the most revolting person sit like a god on his throne of death and fears. 

His father. 

His biological father. 

Weeping won't relieve Victor's deep grief. Among all monsters that existed, he had to meet the one from under his bedーand if fright could be described with your senses, it would be total blockage and numbness. Paralyzed and hurting he spoke. 

"What do you want from me?"

"Is that a proper way to greet me?" His father asks with a devious smirk, the proximity growing as he sat on the hard bed. He attempted to stroke Victor's hair away from his face, jaw clenched, Victor was livid and red under his collar. A wave of endurance and strength rushes over him as he slapped the hand away. "How much does your forgiveness cost? Would you be able to forgive me, son? Look how much you have grown." 

"Never," Victor denies, exasperated by the act itself of asking for forgiveness after attempting to abduct him. 

"We'll see about that." His father whispered, hand clenching Victor's face, the grip was intimidating enough to send chills through Victor's body, who whimpered as the weight of the other's dirty hand formed a bruise right next to his dimples. 

He could plead for a sweet dosage of morphine if part of his rib wasn't cracked. 

He swallowed thickly at the sight of a needle in his hand that he didn't even notice before, the area around colored in black from the inexperienced and amateurish placement. Lightheaded and hungry for some rest, Victor blacked out again. 

_

The cloak-and-dagger meeting drained the last licks of Yuuri's energy. Weariness and resentment couldn't pass as quickly as he wished. Despite of being well aware of the food and sleep his organism needed, the scenario of Victor starving, tightened and lying into a pool of his own blood, sickened him additionally. 

With a hand pressed to his mouth, he tried not to throw up right there, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He allowed the droplets of rain, coming from the cimmerian clouds to stroke his heated skin and bring sanity back to his mind. Panic arises like flames beneath him, the hard banging of his heart inside his ribcage caused him even more anxiety. 

"Take that, Yuuri." He recognized the distant voice, who wasn't as judgemental and gruff as usual. If it wasn't for the adrenaline and worry that sickened him, Yuuri would teasingly question rhe younger why he had such a deep voice at such tender ageー which as a matter of fact, was meant to be a compliment, not a tease. 

"Pirozhki?" The younger asked. 

"Just eat them, now." 

Food feels like a balm to Yuuri's empty stomach, the nausea almost completely gone as he felt something different than water and bitterness over his tongue. He didn't even blink before stuffing the fried doughy bun of food inside his mouth. 

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Yurio said pointing at his phone that buzzed with another muted call that the younger dismissed, eating from his own food. "I'm seriously sick of Yakov's game. That can't be fair!" 

"Is it something about Vitya?!" Yuuri almost shouted, a few raindrops tickling his hair from above. 

"Yes. Well, nothing we didn't fear. Yakov sent men to the address he ordered Victor to go today. They found Michele's dead body in a chair, similar to Emil's murder. There is no hint of Victor's presence there whatsoever." Yuuri's eyes widened, a low, weak exhale escaping his throat. 

"Yakov asked him to go there today? Why didn't Victor refuse?" 

"You can't refuse an order! You are seriously a fool!" 

Yuuri steps back just to soak his leg into a small puddle, a brimming tear rolling down his light-toned cheek. The realization of Yakov's filthy intentions hit him like a lightning during gentle summer rain. With his hand clenched to a fist, nails digging into his own flesh to blood, Yuuri shouted his own orderー more confident than he'd ever been. 

He desperately needed to put the blame on somebody. 

"We are going to Yakov's office." 

"Oiー" Yurio could only affirm, sprinting after the older who found his way to Otabek's car. Perchance, it was just now that Yurio encountered for a first time what would happen to anyone thoughtless enough to step Yuuri's territory. Yuuri was Victor's family, and it was enough for him to demolish everything in his way to savior the person who gave his life an eternally different meaning. 

Yuuri couldn't whelve his love. A love that was worth to sacrifice your own soul. He longed the skin of Victor's neck pressed against his nose as he pulled him into an affectionate hug, hands locked around the other's waist, or Victor's kisses that healed every ache, that chased every fear away, as gentle serein, light drizzle after dusk, his love planted seeds of adoration that are yet to bloom. 

Yakov's office wasn't that far away from their current location. Every servant there was warned strictly not to lay a finger on Yuuri Katsuki and pay respect to him as a second mafia leader. Who could oppose to the order of Nikiforov, who could conquer what belonged to him? If it wasn't for his order, a gun suggestively resting next to the old style lamp on his desk, Yuuri Katsuki would have already been killed. 

He took a great enjoyment from the power and control givenーhe danced with Victor's nightmares, surviving every stab of the poisoned daggers of his lover's past that crashed like stormy, black waves against Yuuri's heart. Not only could he swim amidst the ruins of cold grief, Yuuri controlled the entire ocean of death, with it's treasures simultaneously. 

He stormed inside the office of crimson walls and long fancy curtains that scarcely moved at the sudden air stream that irrupted the room as Yuuri ran into it. Yurio and Otabek couldn't respond, the japanese couldn't care less about the man in black suit negotiating with Yakov, and in a blink of an eye, Katsuki was grasping Feltsman's collar aggressively serving a violent and harsh punch between his eyes. 

"Oi, Katsuki, let go of him!" Yurio rushed through the shrouded with smoke room and to pull Yuuri away from the Pakhan. A flurry of movement followed when Yuuri served another aggravated punch into Yakov's head and ears, using his legs to prevent him from moving, elbow cracking the old man's dentures. Just like he fought Michele years back. 

Otabek was rather pensive and absent standing by the door, which he eventually closed shut as a little favour for raven haired, livid male, as a subtle encouragement to keep going and do as much damage as no one has seen. 

"Y-You will regret!" Yakov barely said when Yuuri's abrupt punches ceased, waving his bruised and blood covered hand. 

"Katsukiー Oh, for God's sake, Katsuki. Cut it off right away, stop!" Stumbling over his own legs, Yurio held the enraged male who maintained a relaxed face, only his heaving chest indicating the afterthought of the war. Yuuri's glasses flew out of his face, crumbled to pieces on the brown carpet. 

Yuuri's hand was now gripping Yakov's throat into an agonizingly tight choke. Needless to mention, Yakov was wheezing for a little bit of oxygen, kicking his legs under Yuuri's weight sullen. That motivated Yuuri to press harder into his larynx, a painfully throbbing vein almost breaking through his forehead. 

Yuuri's face didn't flinch at the violent act he was committing. Nothing could conquer with the long years of hatred towards the societyー and here the most dangerous people will meet the most cynical and ruthless creature they have seen, the dark side Yuuri covered behind sheepish bashfulness. Yuuri's demons are not only a potential danger to anyone disturbing his dearest person, they are the most sadistic and brutal incarnation of the all the deadly sins, that drank your soul through your skill, sitting on a throne of bones. 

"Katsuki, you are going too far! You are going to kill him!" Yurio yelled in a last attempt to bring the other around, shaking his shoulders and he begged. Yuuri could pull his eyeballs out or shot him in the kneecaps. 

Yuuri slowly stood up, heart racing from the good three minutes of fighting and resisting the struggle. His opponent, the invincible man of the mafia was spitting, and gasping to regain his normal breathing patina, rolling into his side. Yuuri's vigorous movements calmed, a fresh wave of anxiety hitting him like a bullet inside his heart. 

"We know about your scheme, Feltsman," Yuuri said through clipped breaths. "I won't forgive you for what you did to us. Your business is one hilarious joke as well as your whole existence. This monstrous display of violence you show will kill you one day." 

Yakov's competitive and prideful nature couldn't take those words, hand trying to reach for his weapon set aside. Until Otabek didn't stomp on his hand, taking the dusty pistol in his own hand. 

"And yet you cannot show any sympathy?" 

"I can't believe that Victor is adopted." Yurio mumbled to him, dejected, heartsore, the words ricocheting through the old man's bones. His verdict was lucidly writtenー he did plan to eventually get rid of Victor, however, that team of people who had a bit of humanity left in their wretched hearts managed to thwart his cunning and cruel plan. 

And if Yakov would kill to save himself, they didn't kill him because they had something left. They showed mercy, even if he caused so much pain. 

"Listen carefully," Yuuri lowered himself again, trembling as his irritation took the best of him. "I don't need you, or someone else to have Victor. On my own, I can guarantee his safety and freedom, two words you will never understand. But if something happens to Victor, I will personally murder you." 

With that, Otabek Altin lowered his weapon to the Russian's temple and put light pressure on the trigger. Notwithstanding, Yuuri's hand lifted high as a sign of resistance. Otabek's grip didn't relax, the tremendous amount of dread has been bottling inside his well adapted mind of a criminalーyet, he couldn't disregard the order. Victor provided orders that everyone carrying faithfulness and a sense of alliance to the Bratva, obeyed with no objection. 

And the introduction to his rules, the most important and undeniable one, was to serve Yuuri Katsuki and work under his navigation when he is unable to do so. Little did he know, that his lover had a weakness for the scenery of burning castles. The crime group of inexpensive schemes and clichéd man in fine suits was the shameful reason why many didn't greet the moon. And if it was for Victor, Yuuri would watch as the flames licked up the walls of that primordial castle of demons and notorious creatures of hell. 

On the ground of the dim room, Yuuri found a little, wrinkled note laying mutely on the floor. He could barely hold the dam of rage as he opened it, ungrateful groan of irritation he read it to himself. 

"Let the game begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I respond to all comments here. Thank you for reading, it seriously is an awesome gift for the forthcoming holidays! Have blessed celebrations and I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did planning and writing it :)


	17. Take me to church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer rests on a bloody piece of paper, written messily in bold handwriting. The heavy pressure, the lowbrow Japanese symbols, Yuuri was disappointed to not have noticed earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness! The facade is gradually falling and soon, everyone will face the rival. But who is the real antagonist and who isn't?

Yuuri's silent ardour for avenge was echoing through the peace of midnight. The most appropriate place to mourn over dern sorrow. Nothing devours the agony like the open night abyssー evocative and poignant, accompanied by the whole universe of forgotten words and mystic vows that vanish as the sun rises. 

A lonesome, companionless monologue with the silver, waxing crescent of the moon, could soothe Yuuri's urge to plant a bullet in Yakov's head. Yet, without the warmth, the smell and voice of his lover, he was just a pawn during the chess war.

The Japanese was motionless, sitting in the middle of the leather sofa. He dwells on his remorse, eyes lowered with defeat to the carpet where Makkachin is whining from time to time. He could relate to her, sighing forlorn, and desperateーthe lack of Victor's presence was his mental demise. Out there he was in the clutches of a maniacal, professional killer and theft, and Yuuri couldn't even follow the thread of hope. 

"Oh, Vitya. Where are you, my love?" Yuuri muttered, looking at the chestnut front door out of pure habbit. But it didn't open. The cheerful laugher, the flickering light in his blue eyes, Victor wasn't home to stroke Makkachin's back lovingly and allow Yuuri to untie his shirt cautiously. 

Yuuri's hair has significantly grown, the inky wet locks tickling his nose and cheeks. With a doleful expression, his eyes shift to the sleeping blonde on the armchair. 

Yuri Plisetsky, who was barely fifteen had already cut someone's throat from ear to ear with a dull blade. What irked him at this seemingly serene scene of Yurio sleeping soundlessly with an emptied bowl in front of him, was the striking similarity he had with Victor. Perhaps, it could be a common trait for everyone in the mafia to look that relaxed, nevertheless, the coldness into child's eyes was bothersome, itching, burdening his conscience. 

And here the moon spoke again, a hymn of missing that brought tears to Yuuri's eyes. He didn't fight the pain any more as it slipped through his fingers like bloodーas he buried his face into his palms, he wailed, sobbed like a newborn that couldn't even endure the process of breathing. The young Japanese wept with so much sorrow, sobs crashing into the merciless silence, stillness, the serenade of the black and the stars that magically helped him stay conscious through the chaos. 

Tears couldn't stop steaming down his swollen face, it was suffocating and afflicting as guilt itself. He held his palm in front of his mouth, rocking his body back and forth in attempt to console his withering soul. He couldn't place the pieces back together, he hasn't witnessed so much terror and malice in his whole life, which encouraged him that maybe, he should be clever enough not to demand all the answers. Some things shall stay between you and the night void, consumed, safe, hidden.

_

Yuuri woke up two hours later from a quick, nightmarish nap. Regardless the distance, the image of Victor's arms around his waist were enough to get him through a needless, light sleep that ended as he woke up from an intense cramp in his calf and sore chest. 

He couldn't adjust the room any better, his glasses were cracked and reflecting street light into different directions that only intensified his throbbing headache. 

The lights in the next room were on. 

There was Otabekー sitting with his legs crossed in Victor's chair watching something very carefully on his computer. Yuuri entered the room unceremoniously, searching for headache medicine in one of the drawers. Otabek didn't appear to mind the presence, rigorously working on whatever his task required. 

"That is Victor's computer," Yuuri warned with crossed hands and intense glare, voice quivering with sadness. "What are you doing on it?" 

"Easy," Otabek said nonchalantly, giving a sign to the other to sit somewhere.  
"I'm just checking the video you saw at Japan too. The one where those pissants are filming your friend and Christophe getting abused." 

Yuuri nods, nauseated at the memory of the obtuse, petulant mock in the speaker's voice. A shaky exhale broke the silence, before Otabek played the short material for a tenth time this evening. Yuuri wasn't the only one who craved to find who kidnapped Victor. He didn't interrogate how Otabek Altin managed to get into their apartmentーwas he mindless enough to leave the front door opened, or everyone had a key to the boss's place? Is that why Victor kept a pistol under is pillow and a knife by Yuuri's night stand? 

"Thank you for looking after Yura," Otabek's attempt to make a small chat couldn't stay unnoticed. "There is still a way more for him to experience. I'm glad there is someone who isn't involved in Yakov's games." 

The Kazakhstan man wasn't the type to take orders. A treacherous associate between some infamous mafia families across Asia, was a lie detector for other's secrets. He was very sensible and rational, owing to the diversity of people he had encounteredーall thirsty for gore and revenge. It wasn't a dire task for him to recognize pure innocence, bewitched to meet such a majestic trait in Victor's lover. 

"What an unconvincing and weak argument," A little, worn grin spread across Yuuri's expression, dark, vivid eyes giving Otabek a competitive glare. "How do you even rest when an underage boy is taking orders from such a brute like Feltsman?" 

"I don't." A respond came, brief and indifferent in contrast with the scornful, taunting eyes laid on his so outrageously empowered and stern ones. He scoffed, switching to examine the mentally devastated male who couldn't handle the control bestowed. Otabek could peculiarly relate to the wary respond, he exhausted likewise, knowing that Feltsman had every right to be pissed now. 

"May I watch the tape with you?" 

Otabek pushed away his headphones, giving a room for the younger to sit right next to him. The video plays with a delay and poor quality, giving the younger a false sense of hope that he might notice, spot a tiny hint to help them identify their location. Certain that they have left clues to taunt, there must be a sign even if it was a singular word. 

Otabek wasn't persuasive, nor willing to carry on with such a minor proof. With a loud exhale he removed his sight from the monitor, trying to make a logical assumption. He couldn't rely on anyone elseーYurio couldn't bear the war between them and Feltsman, nor could Yuuri organize something beyond his opportunities. 

"Play it again, turn to sound on," Yuuri orders, just to earn an exaggerated sigh by the other. He did as told, reluctantly waiting for the rough fifty-four seconds of debauchery and pain to end. "Can you hear that?" 

"Hear what?" Otabek narrowed an eyebrow, cigarette hanging between calloused fingers. 

"Listen," Yuuri encourages, a glimmering star aligning in his arid orbs. "Can you hear that?" 

Otabek focuses for a moment, black eyebrows knitting together in wonder at the exact second. 

"A church bell?" 

It's almost ceremonial and gleeful, hard to discern at the background of Phichit's screams. He couldn't acknowledge, however, what Yuuri exactly got from that little melancholic bell ring. Raucous and rhythmical, the bell was now evident when they both concentrated on the sound. With puzzlement, Otabek tilted his head to the younger's slumped shoulders and blazing eyes. 

"I'm afraid I'm not competent enough to muffle the extra sounds," He regretfully bit his lips, coughing dryly to clear his throat. Cigarettes are a ridiculous habbit. "What is in your mind Katsuki?" 

"I know where they are." Yuuri said in clipped tone. 

_

Yuuri didn't really fit into the role of Sherlock Holmes. Forensic phychology had nothing to do with that, but it developed equally his analytical and judicious skills just as being a detective. It was an obstacle to deal with logical material when you had high intuition and core beliefs, however, Yuuri Katsuki could deal with human nature better than any criminal group's phychologist. Studying in his field wasn't a that tedious after all. Between JJ's activity they had many suspected, and they didn't assume even for a second that the answer is right in their arms. 

Negotiating with a man like Feltsman resembled talking to a deaf human or dancing to the blindーYuuri preferred not to say, but rather show. And that understanding of human's behavior meant sympathy and endearment, which eventually, appears to be the most dangerous card. 

"What is going on?" Otabek questions, getting a little note pushed into his face. 

The answer rests on a bloody piece of paper, written messily in bold handwriting. The heavy pressure, the lowbrow Japanese symbols, Yuuri was disappointed to not have noticed earlier. It was there when Yuuri and Victor made love, there standing while they cried in each other's embraces. 

"Remember that note? Victor brought it after being with Chris at Emil's apartment. We found the same one at Yakov's office yesterday." He stammered. 

Otabek simply nodded, cocking an eyebrow in response. He wished the younger could be a little bit more assertive when showing dominance and not allow panic to reach him, just like now as he was changing his homely clothes in front of the eighteen years old hitman who couldn't care less. 

"Let the game begin?" Otabek says, reading it aloud as he sees english translation below. 

"Where does it begin, Otabek? Where did that game begin?" 

"The mafia game? To be exact, your old apartment. But I doubt someone is there at all, it's being investigated by the policeー"

"No, noー" Yuuri stutters, waving his hands as he put a jacket on just to be stopped gently, not forcefully, by Otabek. As people lose their sanity, they do the most unpredictable and guileless thing driven by revenge. "Where do humans begin? And who made Victor's life begin?" 

He was almost clenching Otabek's collar, aggressive and desperate tone rocked him. 

"God," Otabek responds with a gulp. "God..." He repeats like a mantra a few times, looking back at the note in his right hand. Regarding religion, God is the higher power that creates us. 

"Yes, they reckon that our life is a game that they want to dominate over. The beginning, Otabek, regarding religious people is God. It's related to the church, and those are the bells we heard." 

At atheist who thrived and survived on his own like Otabek, could never sense the peace and redemption some people found in churches. They were beautiful, charming and extremely colorful part of the Russian architecture, and nothing more. 

Yuuri, wasn't any different than him. Nonetheless, there was his personal experience that had influence. He exchanged rings with Victor in front of a similar churchー and even if that enraged him further, he had to accept the fact that they may have been followed by a spy. The location chosen was an iresome mock that Yuuri noticed later. It was an irony. Lopsided. 

"They are captured at some old soviet abandoned building around a church." Yuuri's argument appeared clearer and worth the shotーOtabek hurried to nod and grab the clips of ammunition lying on the table. 

"Also, who created Victor, who let his life, that big game of betrayal, gore amd violence to even begin?" 

"His parents?" Otabek blatantly responds under his breath, as he picked another weapon and loaded it. 

They didn't drop a single line while Otabek was putting a thin bullet proof vest under Yuuri's jacket with great precision. The younger already formed an intelligent and secure method to reach the heart of the building without being caughtーeven if it sounded like an total absurd. He was still dizzyーVictor's abrupt absence, the hassle between him and Yakov (the saint bullet of the madly loving, about to pierce human flesh), charcoal eyes, searing as the cooling ashes of Otabek's cigarette, staring at him. 

He left this talk for the car. Now, his attention fell upon the tight belt which Otabek decorated with a diversity of weapons. However, he entitled the Japanese to carry one single switchblade, the steel onyx black and visibly old. It melted with it's pressure over Yuuri's inexperienced hands that winced at the menacing, blood-curdling symbol of death. His expression remained impassive, numb and aloof. 

Otabek wasn't a fool, yet he much preferred to act blind for feelings, acts and inward battles that we've all offered to the devil and miserably lost.  
He viewed his whole existence as a single moment of a war that you enter to fulfill your unforgiving, depriving, desperate sense of belonging. And the soldier that was inelegantly trembling to take care of his buttons, was a specific, perilous, cryptic book of ancient times that had too many pages missing to coexist with similar works of its genre. 

Yet, Victor writes, every single day, an alternative chapter to fill into the uneven, ragged pages of Yuuri Katsuki's story. He could stroke the backbone of that vintage, centuries old book, that collected feelings and ideas, that no one besides Victor could touch and tenderly absorb with loving energy. 

Yuuri resonated with the warmth, and the way Victor's fingers would find their way down Yuuri's spine, tracing over the thin skin, bump by bump up to the steadily beating heart underneath Yuuri's skin. Humiliated, distracted by the level of intimacy, Yuuri allowed Victor's touch to cool over the morning heat of his body, like scattered moonlight, to gently love and consume, like wax of a candle, like star studded wine colored sunset. 

And his Victor was a candle, vanilla scented wax dripping so aesthetical and elysian. That flame of venom, of frail adoration and whisper of forgiveness were enough to start a fire within Katsuki's bone. A monster that couldn't be stopped even if the ocean is drained, even if his nightmares return with a devious, striking hit. A monster won't give up until he didn't get what belonged to him, what healed and rescued that old, dusty neglected book. He allowed the ink, the cursive handwriting to imprint his destiny. 

They shall watch the fairy stars described in poetry, sonnets and myths. And they will name them after their heart-warming memories. He won't let Victor go. Even if that meant death to him, he will be sent with the melody of a love song. No, no, noー

"What are you doing? We should wake himー"

"Hush," Yuuri said before putting a crumpled note next to the couch. "Let him rest. He is simply a kid, Altin. I won't let him risk his life that easily." 

In any other case, Otabek would deliberate, protest against that biased demeanor, however he couldn't resist the soundlessly sleeping boy who looked like a prey in a haunted forest of hunters and other distorted creatures. 

"Fine, hurry up." He pointed to the door, leading the way to the Mercedes Gelandewagen, Victor's favorite car that was fated to lead the venture to hell. 

_

"How long is this going to take?" Yuuri questions from the front seat as they drove down a main road in uncomfortable silence. 

"I'm trying to avoid stops and traffic, but I couldn't just broke the law, Katsuki. Further trouble is absolutely needless."  
He adds, turning to their right. It was a little bit peculiar even for the brisk and bustling Russia to have so many people outside at midnightーrough slavic language, extroverted atmosphere and costly education. Yuuri wasn't convinced what he was here for. 

"Do you think that he is alive?" 

Oh, Katsuki. 

"That wasn't necessary," Otabek sighed. "Of course he is. At first place, they wouldn't simply kill him without fight. It has barely been two full days until he is missing. They couldn't have done more than a scratch." 

A scratch was absolutely enough for Yuuri to kill, or at least to tremble with building panic. The vest pressed his diaphragm steadily, rapid breaths stuck next to the limp in his throat. It was a moonless night with eerie, limpid horizon. The wintry scenery wasn't any better. Baleful, heavy and spine-chilling, Yuuri doubted the sustainability of his legs. His whole body was jolting with something unfamiliar, painful and rather mysterious. He wasn't ready to pull the mask of the rival downーhazy and hollow, the black abyss comforted him with a gentle breeze. 

If his theory was correct, Victor was still alive. His fist clenches and Otabek can feel the sudden intake of air, the senses the demonic wrath of the younger rising like an ocean wave. 'Don't crash in foamy coast to save others, Katsuki.' 

"When I began cooperating with Feltsman I was barely Yura's age," Otabek bagan. "I was a former prostitute."

"Does Yurio know?" 

"No one does, you may feel honored, Katsuki," He quipped, almost missing the right way. "It was such a humiliation for my familyーI was kicked out from home before I could even have a proper education. Thanks to Yakov's pity towards many unlucky kids, we are all his puppets today." 

He was an orphan? 

"Why did he prefer Victor?"

"He was the oldest," Otabek said. "I was so disappointed. While Victor and Yura received the best education in prestigious, private schools and universities, because they are Russians, I was either selling my body or selling homemade substances like drug cocktails." 

Yuuri swallows hard, mouth opens to shout, but nothing comes out. Every hair on his skin is standing, face drained from any colour. 

"When I was younger my biggest priority was to maintain my grades high. Everything seems to simple about us competed to your world." 

"That is why I owe Victor my head. He helped me find the right man and become part of Christophe's hacking community where I had no name or identityー you work for whoever pays higher." 

"That's cruel! How awful." 

"As if you didn't know already," Otabek muttered a he huffed a laughter. "I sometimes assume that Victor fell for you exactly for that. The innocence you radiateーit's quite inspiring." 

A lovely trait that he couldn't effort. Yuuri was reserved and rarely shared. He didn't plan to reveal his weaknesses, nor to weaken under the sympathetic and light conversation formed. Instead, he only smiledーtight-lipped, enigmatic chuckle that could save him in front of the obstacles. 

Yuuri carried his own griefcase, which wasn't as dire to hold, when Victor gifted him a pair of new angel wings. 

"I'm armed right here, ready to fight, regardless my innocence. That is what Victor fell for." Thus he idolized him to the point of submission, that, however, was a different topic. 

"Good," The other said, making a turn behind one abandoned building, bushes surrounding the black car. The engine stopped, as the fixed his own equipment before turning to the younger. "Your plan is excellent for that case, Katsuki. Go claim your territory." 

He did as told, approaching the lonely, sheltered, between other two facilities, building. Literally carrying a mysterious briefcase in his right hand, he was invincible and ready to for the war to begin. 

"Let that game finally end." 

He couldn't hear the church bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have a minute to spare, leave a comment xD feel free to find me on my Instagram.
> 
> Link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	18. The monster within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the madness!

In comparison to Yakov's spacious, almost resembling primeval ballroom with exquisite dripping curtains that scarcely allowed any lukewarm moonlight to break through the frosted windows, this office was almost humble, explosive cracking from a barrel could be heard with a churning promise of affliction. The ashen face cloaked into the gloom of the shadows, underneath the apprehensive, triggering cold blaze of the wintry streetlight, Yuuri firstly noticed the sardonic smirk. He has never witnessed something as cynical, insightful and bloodthirstyーan inhuman machine that adapted to the cut-throat survival on the battlefield. You can't wash the glare off your skin as it brought stigma, as it burnt to muscles and bones. 

Yuuri already felt the flames sizzling into the velvet darkness of the midnightーthe rearmost door of the hall appeares shrouded in smoke. Cigarette burns, he realized with dread, senses preoccupied with the memory of Victor's charcoal coat, wrists naked amidst the dark. 

Platinum hair falling gracefully like a waterfall of glimmer and gold down the well-built chest, dark circles engraved under the blemishes and old, silvery scars of his eyelidsーthat man wasn't the type to dance with death, he was nihilistic, clever and perhaps impossibly tough to negotiate with. Yuuri deadpanned, gritting his teeth with pure frustration and building fear as he stood in front of the door. 

"Sir, you have quite a special visitor tonight," One of his man on post would spoke with hoarse, dragging and rough tone. "Shall I let him come in?"

Similar to Victor's minor habbit to press an index finger to his lips while speaking or analyzing, a leather wrapped finger under his gloves was eagerly tapping on his chapped, meaty lip.

"What kind of a host will I be if I refuse to welcome new assets. Invite him to come." His back stretched like cat's over the armchair, a hand instinctively reaching for the filled revolver. The ice had melted into his liquor filled glass, embellishing its walls with vapour. The atmosphere could have been better, if he didn't intend to torture his guest.

And that was the first time Yuuri faced Victor's father, and he must be a fool not to spot the resemblance. The malevolence was only a smoke that crackled over his heated skin, his composure stabbed with poisoned dragged of pure disappointment as he stood, face to face with the man who he owed a fresh bullet. And if Victor claimed to be a copy of his mother, then he probably didn't remember his father's countenance. An alternative, mature version of Nikiforov himself, that almost tricked the japanese to ensure whether that isn't an reflection of the future.

"Good evening, may I know your name?" He questioned, even if he presumed the answer. Not as blunt and straightforward as his son. If it wasn't for the last bits of patience that calmed the younger, that man would be shoved against the wall with a viscous blood clumps daubed over his flesh. Rough, calloused hand stretched for a handshake. 

"Names aren't necessary," Came a professional, hesitant respond. "Personal matters has connected us."

"Enlighten me," He demands with a flop over the traditional, ruby armchair. 

In response, Yuuri pulled a little, old photograph that he had seen Victor to affectionately hold and speak to, even in front of him. The little pocket image of his beloved mother that lost her life under cryptic and unsolved circumstances, but surely in his father's hands. The man's expression peculiarly softened, lips curving upwards to reveal his pearly teeth. Yuuri's heavens were scowling, glasses hanging to the brim of his nose. 

Yuuri didn't bother to conceal the mental shout that ricocheted through the ominous, almost vivacious silence. 

"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" The anguished, lacking any sign of sincere empathy words were nerve-racking, never failing to nausea, twist and somersault Yuuri's stomach. "Where is this picture from?" The question was haunted, low, possessive. His eyes lit in smoldering flames, burning through the loud gulps he took from the glass. 

The whole situation ravished the younger like a thunderstorm. It seemed rather pointless to make a deal with the devil, especially when you've naively given the ace of your deck.

Anxiety gripped his heart into it's faceless, deafening clutches and it was a matter of mental persistence for him not to step back. Neither with his body language, nor with his demeanor. Even in his youth, Yuuri would make the same mistakes. Homework, university lectures, skating, making love. He made a countless attempts to create an idealistic world that even Hercules couldn't bear on his shouldersーbut Yuuri Katsuki had more stamina than any character presented in books, any theater player who craved validation, any soldier and man alive.

"You aren't one of Feltsman's dogs, are you?"

He will search for а well amidst the desert.

"Surprisingly, I'm not. I wouldn't carry such a picture if I was. I'm here to take Nikiforov, and I can offer a lot. Just name a prize." He could just now observe the bag that he initially placed on the dark-wood desk. With a shrug, he said.

"It doesn't seem like an acceptable prize. I wouldn't give him for such a low bet."

"Why not?" Yuuri insisted, the tension soaring.

"Nikiforov is my biological son if you are not aware. I couldn't care less who you are, I wouldn't give you something I love." Yuuri visibly cringed at the ironic words.

"Love and you just don't fit in one sentence together," He muttered and welcomed the tranquil silence, playing for a moment with the ring on his finger. All he offered here was distraction until Otabek had his part done. "Isn't there anything you would prefer us to exchange." 

He nodded with a taunting humming. 

"Well, it's tempting to offer me everything," He rubbed his chin in wonderment. "I want Feltsman." 

_

"Sir," Fortunately, a savior came to prevent the worst. "You have a different guest tonight. He claims to be with the mister here." 

Hope blooms like a thunderbolt, chiseled jawline pointing at the intruder. The man has rubbed them the wrong way, mimicking and gesturing in a formal manner than was slightly exaggerated, uncertain. 

"Well, well, the night couldn't get any more thrilling!" Exclamation came from the mobster, genuinely urging the new guest to join their little phychological session of persuasion and objection. 

Yuuri and Victor passionately lavished, relished each other's warmth and attention at starry nights like this one, while the main act of this morbid game was aiming to demolish their happiness. To wreck, to slice. 

He took the moment to stretch his shoulders backwards, his cracked glasses between his clammy, glove wrapped fingers. The invitation was instantly accepted, a steady gait of heels clicked like a quick, rushed firework of a culmination. He didn't abide much before turning his sore neck toward the source of noiseーcollating into the unanticipated gleaming with pride eyes, surrounded by crinkled skin. 

Yakov Feltsman? 

A reticent reaction followed by Yuuri, unyielding to convey any form of disturbance. The pain of being forced into such scheme is horrifying, ghastly covered with dirt you couldn't rinse. Unnerving and perplexing, Yuuri was determined to require the answers he needed. The crossfire has captured weapons of innocence and gruesome vexation under the same sky, a moment in which Yuuri had to master his patience and rely on his undeniable sense of justice and intuition. 

The suit he wore wasn't well adjustedーblack bow tie suffocating him with tension, the color scheme and outfit poorly extemporized. Yakov didn't like to spend too much on luxurious clothes. Thicker than the black mosaic of clouds that distorted the clement night, deep bruises from Yuuri's fists across his face. 

Yuuri breathed as deeply as though he turned out to be the prey in this situation, dismay shutting him. 

"Long time no see, Feltsman." The man quipped, eyebrows lifted high. 

"Save the politeness for later. What do you want from my men?" 

The strong carnal aspires grew like cancer between the heavy glares. Anyone could fall dead at that moment, and yet, no one had the bravery to start the fatal battle. Since when, was Yuuri part of his men? 

And then the long expected sound of loading a gun cracked the rocketing tension. Perhaps, Yuuri could balance the fire that was about to explodeーthe fundamental pieces of the mysterious case has finally connected into the correct order. Victor was taken into a dangerous game and only Yuuri could save their future today. The stiffness of Yakov's bold, egocentric gaze fell upon the rivalーstanding at close distance whilst his electronic cigarette was set aside. It was petrifying how they didn't jump into a primal, physical hassle. Instead, they just conquered mentally, still, yet sinister. 

"Go find Victor." 

It was an order shoot by Feltsman, who wasn't expected to do a favour to the younger, especially after he almost cracked his skull opened the previous day. Passive and imploring, Yuuri didn't wait for a second chance to leave the room with shaking legs that moved on their own. He barely recognized the fast and foul whooshing of firing gunsーthe rapid thumping of his overworking heart too distracting. Disorientated and hungry, inspired to carry two lives on his shoulder blades, he ran through the tight halls with no particular direction. 

His senses were already restricted by the acutely harrowing sounds of violence, and it was a pity, such a mortifying and terrible truth, that a man who hated violence was in the center of its glory and sinful, majestic and upsettling beauty. The war has dealt it's cards, ready to see thine. The evocative memory of a battlefield with numb, crumpled bodies lying within the ashes of defense. As if he was in another century, while he was surrounded by abandoned halls of the rival's warehouse. 

Under the sodden with cold sweat clothes, hair of mad and wild raven color stuck to his forehead, Yuuri's world was crumbling with great force just assuming that a bullet could fly out of no where and he wouldn't be able to react on time. Guilt is a dangerous poison, a rusty crown of his demons that ensured him it was exactly him, and no one else, that brought Victor down into flames. He didn't want them to burn together, not yet, not today. 

His body couldn't give up yetーeven if fear was the strongest feeling of the mankind and his common sense shouted that he should run backwards, his whole reason to be here in this cruel, mad, unforgiving world was to protect the one he loved unconditionally even if he had to pay with his innocence. He thanked Feltsman for appearing on time. 

Otabek Altin appeared from nowhere, which instinctively made the other pull his switchblade and chase him down until they didn't hit the cold floor. With a groan, Otabek complained, then rushed to question.

"Where the hell have you been?" He questioned dazedly. 

His blood pressure numbers were possibly close together. It required a lot of heavy, unnerving breaths for him to ease the lightheaded pulsation and form comprehensive sequence of words in english. 

"Their boss, I saw him. He was hostile at first. Not after Yakov emerged." 

"Yakov?" With wonder and astound, Otabek questioned. 

"Yes," Yuuri's sweat dotted his flawless skin, heart kicking furiously owing to the levels of adrenaline and lack of clear oxygen. He pulled down his glasses, coughing forcefully to calm his skipping heart. An underrated technique he practiced. Another cough rippled through his chest, before he spoke to the younger. "They will deal with it. We need to find Vitya." 

Another thunder of worry crossed his mind as he ran down the unexplored parts of the building. He knew what his main priority was, despite the volatility and uncertainty. 

Before Otabek could coherently answer, Yuuri ran tirelessly into the abandoned underground levels of the building as they left the separated wing. His feet were likely to be covered in nagging, bleeding wounds, head spinning from the air concentration underground. 

If his Victor was treated under such conditions, he might need to perform any sort of rescue operation to save him. 

Funny enoughーwhen Yuuri was a kid he would play hide and seek with his sister and some of her friends into the night onsen facility. They were all left overawed by Yuuri's ability to find them in the role of detective. How could such a vivid and pleasant memory, morphe into a cave sounds of horror and humid, gore and pain, as he had to play that dark hide and seek with his loved one. 

"That seems promising." Otabek pointed to a door that was differentーhalf opened and welcoming. Yuuri sprinted, his right side aching, his breathing rapid and convulsing. The light was so bright right then. 

And as it opened with a loud crack, Yuuri found himself inside looking at the love of his life, standing therein, with angelic, chaste guise, with sadness and relief. Disheveled silver blaze of softness, warm and unblemished skin under the thin layer of clothes. Ocean paradise of grey-hued eyes that widened with shock behind the long, soaked with tears, light eyelashes that curved gracefully to expose his blown wide pools. 

"Yuuri!" Just like in movies, the clichéd yelp of reunition and love followed as Victor barely limping, automatically moved to his lover. 

Yuuri was barely conscious, distraught and anxiety too preoccupying. The mellow, dripping with care voice, however, and those owlishly blinking eyes brimming with fire and tears, grounded him immediately. 

He could now see the outstretched arms that summoned him, long and slender, touch deprived. His breath hitched, heart leaping through his ribcage as he embraced his lover into a protective hug. The Russian clinged to him with everything he had, wild scent of a thunder, of a primordial boreal forest with a hint of the scent of their bed sheets and his cologne. It wasn't simply sweetーit was a prevented tragic. 

Yuuri covered Victor's hands with kisses, from his red-scabbed knuckles up to the blood tinted clothes. With worry and fear, his hands cupped Victor's swollen face decorated with yellowish, purple bruises. He nodded frantically, tasting the medicine covered lips, as gentle as a snowflake, benign and desperate, full of care and concern.

He looked at the demage carefully with unbridled rageーVictor's beautiful neck was marked with a trace of belt, infected, gushing wound under his eyebrow, carelessly covered with iodine. He traced fingers over his disheveled hair, anger boiling inside his aching heart. If it the gentle peck of Victor's lips over Yuuri's hand that grounded him back to reality. 

He was the least dehydrated and deprived from any contact, syringes and other pills rolling around the floor. 

Victor noticed how his lover clenched his jaw with loath, gunpowder of wrath and desire for revenge overflowing in his eyes. The older rushed to wrap his hands around Yuuri's neck where his nose landed, kissing the sensitive spot there to reinforce and placate the japanese. 

After another long and relentless kiss, Yuuri reluctantly pulled from the wet warmth of Victor's mouth, arms wrapping around his waist.

"Yuuri, howー" Victor's confusion finally approached, when he felt the weapons under Yuuri's clothes with concern. His hands did as his partner'sーfrantically searching for any sort of harm over his precious, beloved Yuuri. 

"I'm right here, baby. I've got you. There is nothing to fear anymore, I'm right here, right here." Yuuri crooned, rocking the sobbing, distressed man in his arms. It was more of an aim to comfort his own racing, enraged thoughts. 

"Yuuriー" Victor's speech was interrupted by a cough.

"Shh," He hushed quietly. "What on the earth did they do to you Vitya? Are you hurting?"

"Noー" Another choked sob sliced Yuuri's heart. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

In response, the younger mumbles different sweet nothings into his lover's bruised ear, cradling his dazed body closer to his heaving chest. He would make every ache go away, he would do everything just to comfort the weeping figure in his arms. A peck pressed to his feverish temple, followed by another mouthy and full kiss on his forehead and Victor wasn't shaking, just gripping his lover's collar which Yuuri didn't mind at all.

"Nikiforov, where are the others?" And by 'others' Otabek meant Christophe and Phichit. 

A sharp glare of churning anger was hurled towards him, when Yuuri was irked enough to have someone being all formal and strict with Victor when he was having a breakdown. Victor felt the clenched, enfolded with scratches fist and dead gaze of danger his lover bestowed. Without thinking much, he nuzzled into Yuuri's chest as a promise that nothing bad will happen anymore. And even if the worst was due to occur, they had a warmth of each other's presence.

"The next room, Iー" He didn't even finish his sentence when Otabek magically flew to the second room and vanished from sight. 

"Yakov is here, my love. We should go home, stay awake for a bit longer, please?" Victor drowsily nodded, relented into the unyielding and strong embrace. 

"Yuuri! It isn't here. Oh my God, I've lost itー"

"What is missing Victor? Have they taken something?" Yuuri's voice hasn't calmed or lowered, indifferent about someone overhearing. "Talk to me sweetheart."

"My ring, our ringsー" He cried.

Oh Vitya. 

"You are safe and sound, that is what matters, Vitya. I should have been here earlier," He apologetically stroke the pale cheek. "There, there."

He put his own ring with a bit of a struggle over Victor's print of his own, cautious and gentle to avoid the fresh bruises as his limp quivers by the touch. After that he pressed another kiss on the cold gold, up to his chuckles. Victor never presumed that Yuuri Katsuki will go this far for himーthe bashful, timid phychology student with steaming rice bowl in his room and melting snow in his wavy hair. The childish sparkle wasn't completely gone, but changed and mature. Stern and assertive.

"Let's go Vityaー" His speech was stopped by an intimidating figure on the doorframe. At first he seemed to be a servant who came to check. They'd have been dead if it was someone who wasn't familiar with them. After a quick examination of his sharp features, lacking any reverence, Yuuri acknowledged he challenging man whose temper was about to explode the infamous JJ himself.

He wasn't there out of good deed, neither did he plan to leave.

"Yuuri, stay away." Victor warned as he grasped the younger closer to his body as if that would ensure his safety. Leroy was, notwithstanding, a rare case of severe anger issues that haven't been treated and furthermore supported by drugs and elixirs.

He furrowed his eyebrows in disapproval and looked with a deep frown forward at the man who aggravatedly threw a chair across the room. He wants them to wheedle and obey, and the pointless grudge he held against them was born by his urge for dominance and competitive nature.

"I'm going to murder all of you." He treats, the words empty and inconsiderated.

"Only over my dead body." Yuuri marveled. 

A moment of action and intense movement followsーfighting was a question of stamina and some practicable skills that Yuuri could no longer do. His breathing erratic as both of them fought, ugly and animalistic, aiming at weak spots like the neck, eyes or important arteries. Victor's lack energy held him backーthe best he could do was to separate them with a sheer power of will and throw a punch that cracked JJ's nose instantly.

JJ was quick to pull a pistol through clenched teeth and pitiful growls. Victor stood in front of Yuuri, talking aggressively in Russian to protect the other's body or at least the vital spots. He was trained enough to stay composed even grambling in pain. He couldn't think of anything else, but the death he shamelessly wished to the people who intruded into his relationship.

They both gaped with unveiled shock and uncertainty at the sudden gun shot that was firedー like a north wave that blatantly, fiercely dashed into cliffs. They didn't realize how tightly they've been holding into each other's clammy hands, nor when JJ's breathless corpse smashed the ground into a distorted and unnatural position.

The fatal end for JJ's miserable game wasn't unforeseen, no one laid a finger on the bratva's possessions, and most importantly, no one could separate Yuuri and Victor on their guard. Blood streamed silently, his face still and yet mad. The person who prevented a disaster has turned out to be Yuri Plisetskyーstanding on the door frame with a smoldering revolver in his right hand, hood covering his neglected hair and ghostly blank, expressionless charade.

"Yurio? What are you doing here?!"

"Baka..." He whispered with grief. "Do you think a little note for goodbye was something I liked, huh?! You are both such a dull-witted, egocentric assholes who underestimated me enough!"

He scoffed after that, overstepping the body on the ground to give an affectionate hug to Yuuri who couldn't contain his surprise, body shaking at the unexpectedly strong grip. He squeezed hard with evident force, taking a sharp inhale into Yuuri's jacket.

"Thank you, Katsudon." He said while ignoring Victor's half-grin of victory and pride. Yuuri turned to take Victor's face in his hands, grateful that he was there to be kissed. 

"Vitya," Yuuri sniveled. "The man behind this is... He is..."

"My father, I know." Victor admitred, hands on Yuuri's neck.

"What is this about?" Yurio questioned. "How did you even find them?"

"Me and Otabek re-watched the tape sent to Victor a few times. It was peculiar how no one heard the church bells on the background, with Otabek's knowledge over the city we got oriented," Yuuri thoroughly explained, blood forming at his feet like a stamp of punishment. "I can breathe now as we found you."

He turned to Victor pressing another kiss to his lips and running a hand through his hair. It was such a lovesick smile of shyness that Victor had, which caused another protective bundle of warmth to wrap around him almost like a blanket and let him rest in safety and joy. Yuuri needed to rinse the dirt off his skin, to feel normal back again.

"I see you've all reunited, even you Yuraー" Otabek couldn't quite finish his thought, a slap across his face followed by a tight hug as Yurio wrapped his legs around his torso, unbothered by the blood that soaked his clothes. 

"And you the biggest imbecile!" He curses just to feel a deep ramble, a breathy chuckle as the assassin hugged him back, nose buried into his hair. 

"What about Victor's father? Did Yakov kill him?" Yuuri questions with uneasiness, fidgeting his fingers. 

"It's okay, лапочка. It's something I should be responsible for, none of your concern." Victor muttered as all them were running out of the basement to catch the criminal at his spot. 

"Actually, I've got it handled." Otabek reassured as he pointed to one of the windows, droplets of rain covering a limping figure that slowly approached a black car. 

Only a few silvery locks of hair were visible, but enough for them to recognize the figure as Victor's biological father. Yuuri' mouth hang open, cavernous, hastily pointing at the man who was about to escapeーthe distance wasn't promising, and it would be particularly hard to shoot. But Otabek only laughed at the terror and confusion drawn at the other's faces, and it took them a split second to realize that he placed a bomb that will activate when the door os the car opens. Victor's father would soon topple on the floor as someone might shoot, before the car doesn't explode in pleasurable flames. 

Yuuri only cradled Victor's head to his chest, watching as the gasolinee explosion set the city in fire. 

The night won't go as anticipated, and if they wanted to out an end to the game they had to go through one last obstacle that could cost their lives. 

And than dire issue rising at the horizon like the morning blissful rays, had nothing to do with church bellsー it sounded like police sirens.

Aimed for the innocent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year everyone! I longed to post this chapter exactly on new year's evening, as a little surprise as Victor and Yuuri reunite! Another cliffhanger comes with a great force of many emotions and the next chapter, despite of being last, will guarantee a memorable ending! Happy new year to everyone, I genuinely hope we will get season 2 or the movie in the forthcoming year! 
> 
> Feel free to spare a moment and comment, or find me on my Instagram. 
> 
> My username: dark_nikiforov
> 
> Link: https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/


	19. Innocence!!! on ice

Nothing of what followed was anticipated nor the consequences thereof. The picture was unpleasant, surging with repugnance and giddiness. After all of them attempted to run from the basement and sneak through the back entrance that Popovich guided diligently, they were caught into the hands of Yakov's absurd decisions and viciousness.

He had informed the authorities.

A classy liar who builds a thousand of made up versions about the criminals committed, had no problem to do so even now. The coin had showed it's darkside when he took a personal, absolutely hazy and impulsive step in his own revenge towards his own prodigy.

_

Four days laterーa moonless evening of January, Victor was standing face to face with the person who adopted him like a real son and never gave him the chance to live even like a real human. The older was willing to give Victor a long, prosperous life as a leader of his own wicked empire. The windows behind Yakov's growing shadow and girth were decorated in frost, sulkily knocking and twisting on the thin glass with hushed, eerie whooshing and soft rustling. 

Phichit and Chris were found in inhuman conditions, isolated and separated from each other into the corners, tortured and starved to insanity. Chris's venture over thin ice ended successfully as he was revived after the medics administered epinephrine, but bearing the severe bleeding and him almost asystoling, he could have spent the rest of his youth in a wheelchair due to joints and spinal fractures, likewise. Phichit on the other hand needed just a few stitches and an urgent therapist who could prescribe tranquilizers. 

And Yuuri. 

Yuuri was arrested. 

Right in front of Victor's eyes the authorities handcuffed him and forcefully pushed him into their car with no warning. And oh if Victor wasn't on hallucinogens that his father's men used to drug him (as if there was a chance of him forgetting his own madness) and a fractured clavicle, his gun would have been shoved deep in their throats where the muzzle belonged for everyone who tried to take his Yuuri away. His delusional struggle appeared to be a nightmare and he might wake up in a minute with Yuuri's arms locked around his torso, lips pressed delicately to his nose. 

With outstretched hand he begged them to let him go and he could do nothing but lose consciousness at the horrific scene. Prison wasn't an institution under his guard and Yakov was more than delighted, even if that costed knocking on the doors of hell, to teach Victor his outrageous methods of discipline. Everything could happen in jailーYuuri could get beaten up to death, raped or even worse, like being decomposes, piece by piece, limb by limb and even the thought of those consequences wasn't finished in Victor's mind as he winced with fear. He couldn't lose his reason to stay grounded. 

"Vitenka," Yakov cooes. "So happy to have you back." 

Victor was deaf for his voiceーhis pupils extended to the point of hiding the crystal, greyish iris of his eyes. He looked forward to meet the sight of his new enemy, nose scrunched at the vivid imagination of blood scattered across the room. 

"He was a criminal, Vitya. Firstly he attempted to kill an European monster and then hid in Russia as if his little pathetic plan won't be thwarted. You better know than anyone else that he isー"

"He is innocent," Victor slurred with determination. 

"You are quite stubborn," Yakov waved a finger. "It's your punishment, plus you knew I never liked his influence over you. It was a matter of time toー" 

"Bring Yuuri back." Victor's voice was like an order shooted from a assuolt rifle that followed a route to Yakov's nerves and patience. 

He could bring Yuuri back. 

It would take a single order to the slaves he had as directors of the facility and Yuuri will be safe and sound in Victor's arms. Yakov didn't murdered Victor's father, he almost did before he died in the explosion. It was inevitable and he couldn't take it too personally because everyone would spill blood just to possess him. However, he was no longed the scared, lost little boy who was pressured to eat Yakov's rotten fruits of the mafia, he was mature enough even when he was a teenager to acknowledge that the spoil of private and prestigious education and expensive experior was a masquerade to lure his materialistic nature. The business was fully-fledged thanks to his mind, not Yakov's. 

Victor was familiar with the mouldy, decomposing society of deterioration he lived inーand there was one single person who stood out like an angel with clipped wings, unique and delectable, innocent with beliefs that there must be something beautiful underneath the scariest creatures and reasons, and he managed to bloom a beautiful, wild flower of gentleness and warmth in one of these terrifying creatures, giving him faith that not everything in this world is ruthless and deceiving. 

And it was taken from him in the same manner. He clenched his fists over his lap with a tight-lipped smile. After all he was Victor Nikiforovーand the man of his love was Yuuri Katsuki, a passion and art that every searing, blinking star on the night sky knew. 

"Victor, what are youー" Yakov's mouth was shut when Victor pulled out a gun, expressionless and stoic. "Trying to kill me? The hand who fed you? How dare youー"

"Cut your dramatical reactions. The bullet isn't for you this time. Don't be so selfish, father."

The first time Victor called him fatherーwhich was part of his plan to mend the broken connection between him and Yuuri. 

And then Victor aimed the gun towards his own head.

There has been a hundred of weapons domineering over his body through the years, however it was tragic, scary to have it at your own head. He didn't even blink as tears rolled down like an autumn hail to his neck and collar, salty and rich of disappointment and affliction. The muzzle froze, connected to his gauzy skin, leaving the idea of its whoosh trembling in the air. He didn't even struggle to keep his hand steady. 

"Vitya, no. You wouldn't kill yourself."

"I won't," Victor cut him midway. "But I wouldn't hesitate to murder you. I will rinse your blood off my gloves and clothes and call the police. They will come and arrest me," Yakov listened carefully with a frown. "After I'm arrested I will admit my relation to the mafia and then locked. In prison, I will meet Yuuri again and watch over him. Even if our bones burn there deprived from freedom, we will be together. Sooner or later I will take control of the prison using my reputation, while your worthless little organization will die without a leader."

His arrow pierced Yakov's achilles spot. It wasn't particularly a lieーVictor could easily kill Yakov and put himself into the same prizon as Yuuri and take control of the system there before he even turns thirty. And for the sake of hell and heaven, the underworld and the tartaros, that puppet with his own heartbeat, determination and personality, will soon really turn thirty. 

However, the bad ending will come for Yakov. He will not only lose him life, but his whole career. No, his ego couldn't allow that.

"I prefer being guilty for the death of many, than being responsible for the ache in Yuuri's heart."

"You are so cruel, Vitya. So clever!" Yakov exclaimed with hoarse, husky voice. "I'm so proud of you."

Victor didn't tell him that the weapon wasn't loaded. 

He would never point a loaded gun to his head, especially considering that Yuuri was out there waiting for him. A little greedy smile lf homesickness appeared on Victor's face, exposing his perfectly white teeth.

"I'm glad we got a deal, Yakov."

Victor stood up on his quivering knees, walking reluctantly to Yakov's desk where he left his weapon and gloves. With bewilderment and uncertainty, Yakov saw that it wasn't even loaded, his smile growing wider.

"Vitya, he was right about one thing. You've grown so much."

Victor closes his eyes for a brief moment at the words, pulling out his phone to call the prizon and release Yuuri. It was time for him to retire and close a chapter of violence and dark fairy tales of despair he planted across Saint Petersburg. He was about to pay Christophe's fee for recovery and new prosthesis, since he lost part of his leg during the torture.

"Buy Lilia a bouquet. Apologise and be sincere. Those who love us will forgive even the scariest things we have done, Yakov," Victor said sheepishly, taken aback by the sudden surge of excitement. The threshold of freedom tastes divine and it couldn't be destroyed even if the world ended.

Yakov took out the paper of Victor's adoption, ripping it to pisces in front of him. He wasn't affectionate, nor able to share the same views as his protégé. So, without even a handshake they saw each other for one last time, Victor gifted him a genuine smile of gratitude.

Victor turned on his heels and faced the door.

He wouldn't forgive, but one innocent boy named Yuuri Katsuki, taught him that love means forgiveness, even if it's self-love.

"Take care of that boy, Vitya. If you don't I will personally find you and kill you."

Victor barked a loud laughter, feeling the engagement ring he had in the pocket of his coat with delighted expression. 

"I will." 

_

"You are doing good, Vitya!"

"Yuuri! Have mercy on me!" Victor whined as his loved took his hand and guided him over the ice. Wearing skates felt a little bit bizzare, they were heavier than expected and very hard to balance, yet Yuuri presumed there was a hidden talent inside his husbandーboth ij spinning on the blades elegantly and melting the younger's heart. 

It's spring here in Hasetsu, and Victor and Yuuri couldn't have lived any happier than they do now. Christophe was taken care of by his family in his home country, Phichit was back in Thailand. Yurio and Otabek had an odd relationship that couldn't stay unnoticed by Victor who got extremely defensive over his little brother figure, who didn't seem to control his hormones well. The whole crime organization cracked and slowly deceased. Just like in romantic novels, Yakov's money disappeared into charity and relatives. 

"Yuuri, my thighs are going to be sore tonight! I'm a lost case!" He complained again with exaggerated sigh, holding tightly on Yuuri's hand that dragged him across the ice with struggle. 

"You are doing great, baby," Yuuri reassured, taking a precaution of Victor's still healing fracture. "Plus if your muscles are too stretched in the evening, I will massage them for you, да?" 

"You are an angel, солнышко." Victor mumbled softly and allowed his lips to find their way over Yuuri's adorable, little plushed lips, tongue slipping between the ecstatic warmth, prepping his whole face with kisses up to his glasses. Yuuri strokes gently over Victor's golden ring, a new flurry of heavy kissing following over the slippery, crackling surface. 

"I'm the one to get lucky, Vitya." Yuuri giggled, letting go of Victor's hand to let him adjust over the ice. 

Like a newborn fawn, Victor's legs trembled before he finally skated through the ice under Yuuri's heavy gaze. The younger seemed satisfied the least, also seduced by the flexing thighs under Victor's pants. He couldn't take his focus off the glittering silver locks that were like studded with stardust, arms gracefully keeping a steady balance. 

The proximity raised when Yuuri noticed Victor was stumbling clumsily and losing concentration, so he naturally held him stable to prevent him from falling, as tender and gentle as usual, kiss pressed to his cold nose. 

"You should totally meet my old ballet teacher! She could make a choreography performance on ice just for us!" Yuuri explained exitedly. 

"I would much prefer to have your own idea of a choreography done for me instead, любовь." He sheepishly chuckled. "Haven't you thought about being a competitive skater, Yuuri?" 

Yuuri wonders and then shook his head. 

"Not really. But if it's an order from you, I might reconsider." He teased, kissing his lover again before skating in circling pattern around. 

"I beg to differ then! You could be very successful!" For a moment Yuuri believes so, an extravagant twirl over the ice following, mirth filled laughs of people around the skate cheering. From the vague memory of gunpowder that may lurk in the darkest shadows of the night, is now only a thorny rose, silvery scar, a stale scent of pain. Yuuri's heart would shrivel to nothing at the thought, and then would come Victor swathed in the creamy bedsheets, cold bare skin pressed to Yuuri's body, lips muttering until Yuuri's form didn't shrank to a drowsy ache. 

Yet, he allowed these memories to simmer and swell under the surface, whenever it comes, they would never end in a hollow street again. Blood is simply a lonely word, sacrifice is the forgotten damage, death is only a myth. 

Later they got a brief break and a 10 minute shower together in the public bathroomーYuuri couldn't complain from the drying fragrance-free soap or the white thin walls that didn't supress their laughs well, since there was Victor Nikiforov in all his glory and sinless lovesickness, holding the weight of their destiny over his back like a pair of angel wings. 

"We are ready to head home, Mari mentioned something about a festive occasion tonight," he trailed off. "They must need our help." 

"Festive occasion? Japan is full of surprises, isn't it?" Victor sheepishly, scarcely innocently laughs. 

"So are you," Yuuri teases. "Let me take your skates..." 

"Wait, Yuuri," Victor interrupts, a hint of excitement crossing his features. "Can you show me how to tie a proper knot on my skates again, please?" 

Yuuri agrees immediately, a knee pressed to the tatami floor of the public change room, concentrated to put a skate on even if he is oddly struggling to do so. Victor marvels at Yuuri's dark, narrowed eyebrows, a weak smile quivering as he proceed to place his hands on Yuuri's astounded face. "Victor there is something in my skatesー" 

It could have been a defect in the blade or piece of hard ice, but Yuuri pulls out a velvet little box from the shoe, and he could feel his heart leaping, tremors taking over his hands. He opens it, Victor muses and the words "repugnance", "violence" and "gore" have long slipped into the debris of oblivion. It was a marriage ringーwarm gold with Victor's name engraved, molten twinkle reflecting his own tears. 

"... Until death tear us apart," Victor finally spoke, pulling his lover closer to the soft thump-thump of his heart, arms wrapped around Yuuri's body. "Be mine, Yuuri."

Yuuri was rooted to his place, too stunned to move. His mouth gapes in utter surprise and before Victor could even enquire the quiescent moment between two vowing hearts, Yuuri was fast on his feet, arms wrapped around Victor's lean torso, hands slipped under the thick layer of his coat. Just like in Russia a month ago, with the difference, that they've grown and saved each other's lives. 

He didn't care about the sheen of Victor's own tears, brimming to the stormy, glacial hue of his eyes. He scrunched his eyes in an attempt not to choke a desperate, relieved sob into the frizzy locks. He inhaled deeply, following the steady and rhythmical patina of Yuuri's breathing, feeling the younger touching down his waist to checkーif there are any holsters holding his insanity within one heated muzzle, down his hands, colder than steel, as fragile as paper, up to his neck and ragged breathing to check for the increasing rhythm of Victor's benign heart. 

"Yes, Vitya," he maunders in words, repeating his sweet 'Yes' more than substantial. "Please, stay close to me." 

Victor didn't mind it at all, in fact he just tightened his grip, the ring laying motionlessly over the carpet. He just noticesーthe cherry and preaches trees has bloomed, aa if spring came after the misty, soul wrecking hail of Saint Petersburg's hideous stories. 

A meager grin turned Victor's lips upwards, face nuzzling into the salving, extremely soft clothes over Yuuri's skin. He couldn't even pull away when the younger served another kiss, mouthy, vivid and heart-touching. His lips searing, devouring the demons Victor would keep on his tongue. He kissed Victor to connect their wholes, to tangle their souls into a knot which victor longed to tie. 

"Yuuri," he urges, too distracted by the everlasting, wistful warmth that guided him through the new, yale blue frame of his glasses. 

"Are you still with me, Vitya?" He asks so gingerly, so low-toned and caring that Victor's heart dropped. 

"Yes."

"We shouldn't rush it, baby." Yuuri convinced, eyes widening so unbelievably much. "I'm okay with everything you are willing to give or take, it's okayー" 

"Take me now," Victor breathed with anticipation, evolving and provoking. "Because I need nothing else besides you." 

One word was enough for Yuuri to take him rawーamidst the change room in one last dance under the ardent arousal that pools between Victor's legs with every ravenous nibble of his lips. He couldn't breathe properly, not with Yuuri's fervor touch which served as a balm to the hungry Victor. 

Yuuri pushed his hands to Victor's waist, feeling the little smile as his lover eagerly licks the trace of his own marks down Victor's jolts and neck. Victor moansーsinful little whimpers claw their way up his throat. And Yuuri inspects the bruises imprinted of his father's forceful grapple on his Victor's jaw. An insane shimmer of possessiveness raised in his eyes, before another domineering kiss was served. 

Victor was helplessーYuuri did as promised, grinding on Victor's thigh, fucking between his legs as he thrusts into nothing, growls of desire urging, pleading from his throat. 

"Is that a festive occasion?" Victor giggles, his hand tracing down Yuuri's face in a tender cupping. 

"You are so cruel," Yuuri crooned, kissing the wet mess he created over Victor's skin, hand reaching to find the cleft of his clothes, admiring the animalistic, yet careful stars of crave in Victor's eyes. "You are going to be the death of me." 

Victor muffles a laughter again, humming his own tune as the younger climbs in his lap, arms outstretched around Victor's neck gently. "How do I look Vitya?" 

Victor hesitates for a brief momentーthe person who didn't allow his memories to become his destiny. The person who dared not just to step over the lines, it was his Yuuri who erased the line. The man who was now steadily waiting for response over his body, grounding him with reassuring touches. 

He kisses him again and the violence disappears into the spring, wine colored dawn, the snow has melted, Victor's heart likewise. And if the nightmarish life he had as a mobster was his final verdict, then Yuuri must be heaven. But he isn't, he is alive, a savior, a beautiful human, and he wonders how to convey his adoration. He remembers the playful, full if mischief kiss at 'House of Envy', and looked down at the rings again. 

They are going to be okay, making love on ice or even on a battlefield with scattered bodies around. Victor knows it, and for Yuuri's relief he smiles, kissing Yuuri's fingers, as comforting as back in the werehouse when he was abducted. Yuuri will be cleansed from the anger. 

"You look lovely," Love is redemption, even when you have negotiated with the devil. Victor forgave himself for the pain, and kissed Yuuri one more time, rings shining. 

"And absolutely innocent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing more reminiscent and emotion provoking than ending a story you've forged and shaped with so much love. Yuri on ice is a remarkable, highly outstanding anime that has the best supporters ever. It was an unbelievably exciting venture to embark on this piece and complete it for a few months, it gave me so much motivation and even more valuable lessons that I won't be able to acknowledge properly right now.
> 
> First off, I may do a sequel or start another fanfiction, that is a matter of time! But thank you so much for being here, reading, giving constructive critisism, waiting with me. It means it world to have 2000+ people here! Thank you so much!
> 
> As always, feel free to comment below, or contact me on my Instagram. 
> 
> My username is dark_nikiforov, here is a link:   
https://www.instagram.com/dark_nikiforov/
> 
> Thank you again!

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language and I'm only 17 so excuse any mistakes or errors! 
> 
> Find me on Instagram: (the Instagram I linked here is no longer available, sorry!)


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